Prime
by Luki Dimension
Summary: Post ROTF. Life is finally getting back to normal for Sam Witwicky, when a visit from Optimus shatters his world...again.
1. Prime

Okay, this fic was mostly inspired by a few extended scenes in the novelisation that didn't make it into the movie. For those that haven't read it, here's the three most important ones.

While explaining what the matrix and harvester are, Jetfire mentions that the original war on Cybertron that was started by the Fallen was orchestrated to kill off every direct descendant of the Dynasty of Primes…except for one orphan who was hidden away, unaware of his destiny. No prizes guessing who that was.

When Sam is visited by the Dynasty of Primes, they say, and I quote: "_You do not yet know the full truth of your past or your future."_ - Future I get, but past? Hmmm…

In the novel, one of Megatron's greatest drives is to given the title of Prime by The Fallen. Which he discovers is impossible via Optimus, who tells him that _"Primes are born, not made_."

* * *

**Prime**

"Ow…ow…ow…"

"Dude!" Leo moaned. "Do you have to do that in here? We share a bathroom with 50 beautiful girls, and you're one of the most appealing guys on campus. Go and 'request' some help."

Sam threw him a look, and dropped the cloth with antiseptic before picking up the new bandages.

"Hey, I'm almost done. And you're the one who's milking being on the most wanted list. Why don't you leave?"

"Hey, man, I'm still recovering from last night. Number 44, 21 _and_ number 13. At this rate I'll be through the Hot Hunny 55 by the end of the semester.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You're pathetic."

Two weeks after the battle in Egypt, and he was healing faster than the doctors had expected, if still too slowly for his liking. Admittedly, given that his injuries had been strong enough to initially _kill_ him, he probably shouldn't complain.

Taking another look at the marred flesh, he frowned at the black mark inside his elbow. The symbol he'd penned in black marker was still there, marked into the skin. The doctors couldn't explain it, but the blast appeared to have burned the symbol into the skin, like a miners coal tattoo. Made absolutely no sense scientifically, but it was the best guess anyone had.

Well, he could have worse souvenirs of that battle. A tattoo was better than an alien encyclopaedia that made him go crazy at random intervals. Thankfully, ever since Egypt, there hadn't been a single episode – the symbols were gone, and much to his relief, showing no signs of returning.

Just as he started applying the bandages, he heard a familiar horn sound from outside his window, and slammed it open.

"Just a sec, Bumblebee!"

The horn sounded again, but this time was accompanied with his mobile ringing.

'_Check on the rep, yep, second to none. Check on the re-'_

He picked it up and headed out the door, grabbing his book-bag along the way. "What's so important, Bumblebee?"

Sam wasn't entirely sure how the Camaro did it, but he had arrived at the hospital door the day Sam was to return to university, and 'informed' him through various movie quotes that he was accompanying him to campus for the rest of semester, and there was nothing school could do about it. Oddly enough, nobody had, and neither of them was complaining.

'_Good morning!' _came the phone's reply. '_We interrupt this broadcast with late breaking news,' _'_message from Starfleet captain,' 'He's here…'_

It took a few seconds to translate Bee-speak. 'Optimus is here?'

That would be an interesting sight on campus.

As if to reply, he heard the distinctive sound of a truck horn coming from outside, and quickened his pace.

Outside, Bumblebee's chrome was gleaming in the dying sun, but, for once, he wasn't the one drawing the crowd. Instead, people were crowding round the Peterbuilt truck that was taking up most of the road.

"Ooh, he is not going to have fun finding room to turn," Sam mused, giving Bumblebee a pat on the hood as he walked past. "Guess I'll be back later."

Optimus' hologram nodded as he spotted Sam, and jerked his head in the direction of the passenger seat. The crowd began to part when Sam made an obvious beeline for the door.

"Dude!" one of the students moaned. "How many kickass rides do you need?"

He had to smile at that. Maybe next time he could talk Sideswipe into coming to visit – the Corvette would probably send the admirers into a euphoric coma.

"Hello, Sam," Optimus greeted him as the teen jumped into the seat, bag dropping to the floor half open.

"Hey, Optimus," Sam replied. "Not that I don't appreciate you picking me up instead of dragging me to a graveyard, but you might want to move before the co-eds start drooling on your paintwork."

The hologram smiled. "Duly noted."

The truck's revving engine was enough to get the road clear, and the Peterbuilt headed out of campus.

* * *

"So…there a reason you showed up?" Sam asked after they'd been on the road a few minutes. Once Optimus was clear of most of the traffic – pretty quickly considering the late hour - he'd deactivated his hologram, leaving Sam to talk to the dashboard. He didn't really have a problem with this though – talking to the holograms always felt fake, there was nobody really looking through their eyes. "I'm kind of skipping some much needed catch-up studying."

"I wanted to know how you were doing," Optimus replied, his voice echoing in the cabin. "You were only released from hospital a few days ago."

The truck seemed nervous for some reason – Sam figured he was probably more worried than he let on, and smiled.

"Well, I still can't sleep on my side worth a damn, but the docs say I should recover without needing any plastic surgery. How about you? You weren't in much better shape by the end of it either."

"Ratchet gave me an audial's worth" Optimus replied. "But our injuries are easier to fix than organics. I was fully repaired within a few days."

"And the others?"

"Everyone but Arcee is fine. Two of her units were damaged – it will take longer to repair her."

"But she'll be okay?"

"She'll be back on all wheels by the end of the month."

They both fell into comfortable silence, getting further out of the city.

"I have something I need to give to you."

Sam's eyes flicked back down to the dashboard.

"Oh?"

"In the glove box. It's something you left behind in Egypt."

The small door popped open, and Sam tensed when he spotted a familiar light.

"You've got to be kidding me…"

Slowly, he pulled the Matrix out of the glove box, holding the metal cage in his lap. There was a slight buzzing in his ears when he held it, just dim enough not to be irritating.

"I thought this was destroyed – you blew it up."

At least, that's what he'd thought. The world's mutual governments were still going crazy trying to hide half the missing pyramid and the alien rubble poking out of it.

"No," Optimus replied. "I managed to remove it from the machine once it stopped functioning. And it probably for the best it was not. The knowledge you obtained from the Allspark was transferred inside when you received it."

Oh. That was why he wasn't going crazy anymore. Good to know.

"You earned this in your quest to save me," Optimus continued. "And now I'm returning it to its rightful bearer."

Oh no.

Frantically, Sam tried to put it back in the glove box, only to have the door snap shut.

"Big guy, seriously, you need to keep this," Sam stuttered. "It belongs to you."

"Actually, the Dynasty of Primes entrusted it to you," Optimus reminded him. "As much as I would like to keep it near, its place it not with me."

Which was completely the opposite of what Sam had gathered from the experience, and he certainly wasn't giving up yet.

"Optimus, come on," he tried again. "A college dorm room is not going to be a safe enough place for it. If the Decepticons decide they want it – and given our track record they probably will - not much is going to be in their way."

The truck was silent, leaving Sam to watch the roads.

"I will take it back, Sam," he finally replied. "On one condition."

The teen frowned. "Which is?"

"Talk to the Primes," Optimus requested. "They want to speak to you. If you still wish to give it back, then I will respect your wishes."

Sam sighed, holding up the Matrix in both hands while the buzzing sound got louder. "So how do I talk to them? Last time they kind of dragged me to wherever they were."

"Do you feel anything when you hold it?" Optimus asked, sounding nervous again.

The teen's eyes narrowed. "A kind of buzzing in my head."

"Try to focus on that," Optimus offered.

Holding to eye level, Sam stared into the shining centre, and tried to bring the buzzing to the surface.

"Here goes nothing."

The buzzing grew in intensity, and Sam realised he'd closed his eyes. Immediately opening them, he jerked back in shock.

He was standing, surrounded by cliffs, with six very large mechs staring down at him.

"Samuel James Witwicky," one greeted him. "We are glad to see you have recovered."

"Why did you want to talk to me?" Sam asked, voice slightly lower than a yell with his head craned at an awkward angle. "And why Optimus so insistent on me keeping the matrix?"

The first speaker crouched down, so that he could meet Sam face to face on the cliff's edge. "Sam Witwicky, when we first met, we told you that you did not know of your true past. At the time you were in no condition to receive the truth, it would have distracted you from your mission. But now, you are."

Not one part of that sentence sounded good, and Sam swallowed in apprehension. "I'm not going to like this am I?"

"When The Fallen left," the first continued, showing no signs of hearing him, "we used the Matrix's power to watch over the planet – seeing every possible future, all of its potential. It was only when the Allspark arrived that we realised we had to intervene in whatever way we could."

"If the Allspark was here, then Cybertron had no future," a third continued. "Our race would inevitably come here – they would need to cohabit with humanity. And we would need someone who could bridge that gap."

The first started up again. "We had little power within the Matrix, but enough to contact the Allspark. Less than two decades ago, when we realised our children were getting closer, we pushed it to release one more spark. One. More. Prime."

"Wait, wait, wait" Sam interrupted. "There's another Prime? Here? On Earth? Where the hell is he? Hiding like Jetfire was? Did Sector 7 kill him?"

"No," came the reply. "We had a Cybertronian Prime. One that could easily be ambassador for his people. We needed a Prime that could speak to humanity."

"We did not give it a body, but instead, set it loose among the souls of earth. Growing as one of its own."

"An ambassador for Earth and Cybertron. A human Prime."

Sam took a step back as the first Prime leaned closer to him, optics shining a light on his elbow where his new tattoo was highlighted.

"To earth, you are Samuel James Witwicky, but to us and to Cybertron, you are Samuel Prime."

Sam turned and ran.

* * *

The boy in his passenger seat had been still for several minutes, focused on the artifact in his hands. To keep himself from being distracted, Optimus had pulled off the road, parked in a suitably sized spot.

It had been humbling the first time - to stand in the presence of the original Primes. To hear their voices, the affection and genuine happiness they had to see him. It had been all Optimus had dreamed of once - back when the concept of war never entered his processor, growing up alone with no knowledge of who and what he was. However, it had also brought sadness, realising that his only ancestor, his only living relative was the one he would be brought back to kill.

And then, the second time in their presence, they had told him Sam's secret. Like Optimus himself, his heritage had remained hidden from him, to keep him safe while he grew up on a planet so unlike the one where he would have otherwise been sparked. Brothers in spark if not form.

He hadn't believed it at first, but he couldn't deny the sense that it made. Sam's immediate connection with Bumblebee, his actions at Mission City, his downloading of the Allspark without going irreversibly insane as Ratchet had feared. Sam was special, unique among his fellow humans – but completely unaware of it. Now, all there was to do was see how he would accept it.

Sam gasped, and the Matrix dropped from his hands. A jerk when it landed in his lap quickly dropped it by his feet. Optimus immediately scanned the boy's vitals, noting the increased heart rate and panicked look. Clearly, he hadn't taken the news well.

"What. The hell!"

He immediately went for the door, only to find it wouldn't budge.

"Sam-"

"Open the door, Optimus," Sam interrupted.

"We need to talk about this," Optimus urged.

"No. We don't," Sam replied. "I listened to their crazy talk, now I'm leaving."

"You're not going anywhere until you've calmed down," Optimus warned.

Which was the last thing Sam wanted to hear.

"Dammit, Optimus! I'll break the window if I have to!"

He kicked the door to make his point, only to have Optimus immediately lurch forward, without the use of his engine, almost dislodging Sam from his seat.

"Woah!"

"Sam," Optimus tried again. "I understand your apprehension. I refused to believe my own heritage when I discovered it, but it doesn't change the fact that it's true."

There was a sadness to Optimus's voice when he said that, but Sam could, just slightly, sense a small amount of joy coming from the truck. Enough that his immediate panic seemed to ebb, and he sank into the seat.

"They've got to have made a mistake, Optimus," he sighed. "They've got the wrong guy."

"I seem to recall you telling me that not too long ago," the Peterbuilt replied. "And I must agree with our brothers – you have helped save this world twice, spoken on our behalf, and have been blessed, however temporarily, with the knowledge of the Allspark. There is no mistake."

Our brothers? God. Not his, ours. Optimus really believed this.

"Look, I could, _possibly_ believe that your" (and he really made sure to stress the 'your') "ancestors managed to create some kind of spark-soul-thing for a human. I might even, at a stretch, be willing to accept that I have it. But I can't be a…a human equivalent of you!"

"And you're not expected to be," Optimus replied, firm while sympathetic. "All you need to be is you, and you will be fine. As I've said before, your only shortcoming is your lack of self confidence – you have performed miracles more than once, all you need is more faith in yourself."

Sam was starting to hear buzzing again, and looked down to see the matrix flaring brightly. Rather than pick it up, he hit his head on the dashboard.

"Urgh…what do they want now? To tell me Megatron is my long lost second cousin?"

Optimus was quiet, and the buzzing ebbed away, much to Sam's relief. A few minutes later, Optimus spoke again.

"You ran out on them?"

Sam winced. "It was an instinctive thing! I freaked out."

It was amazing how well a truck could sigh. "Sam, take the Matrix, and let them teach you. They cannot tell us the futures, but they can prepare us for them. It would be foolish to ignore the help they offer."

The truck revved back into life, and pulled back onto the road, heading back to the campus. Sam barely noticed, already hearing the buzzing again.

"They don't give up easily do they?"

He could practically hear Optimus smile. "I don't think they're used to being ignored. They need you to listen, for your own sake as well as others."

Sam didn't answer, instead choosing to pick up the Matrix and study it again. The buzzing was gone, as if it was satisfied by just being in contact.

"I can't keep it, Optimus."

Had Optimus been in his true form, his shoulders would have sagged. The boy still had no faith in himself. What it would take to finally make him _see_…

"Please, big guy," Sam urged. "Just…give me some time to process this, all right?"

"…All right" Optimus replied, and the glove box opened again, allowing Sam to store the matrix away just as they pulled up to the campus gates. Apparently Optimus wasn't going to risk the narrow streets again.

Sam jumped out. "See you around, Optimus."

"Sam."

He stopped and turned. The hologram was activated, holding something out the window.

"You forgot your bag."

The teen grinned, walking back up and slipping it over his shoulder. "Thanks, Op."

The hologram continued to stare at him. "Sam, promise that you'll think about what happened tonight. You won't be able to ignore this forever."

Sam's smile dimmed and he shrugged. "I know. And I won't, I promise. But I need to think about this. What it means. Let me do that, please."

Sam waved and headed off again. "Night, Op."

"Goodnight…Sam."

* * *

When the boy found out, he was not going to be happy. Optimus' hologram closed the glove box, now suspiciously empty as Sam walked further and further out of sight. When Sam forgot his bag, Optimus had dropped the Matrix into the deeper recesses of fabric and handed it over. The human Prime would find it much harder to run out of the Matrix if it came to him while he dreamed. He could only hope that Sam wouldn't spot it before he fell asleep.

He hadn't wanted to resort to this – in a perfect world Sam would get the time he needed to accept the truth. But the Primes within the Matrix had been adamant. Sam's role on this planet, in this war, was just beginning. He needed training, teaching that Optimus had had time to learn. The boy's own lifespan wouldn't give him the same choice – the Primes needed to aid him as soon as possible.

And, somewhat selfishly, he wanted…needed Sam to acknowledge who he was. Optimus had lost his family before he could even remember them. The only other being he'd ever been close enough to give that title was now a crazed mech…and the only relation he had was now dead, by his hand.

As selfish as it was, he'd wanted to say something else in farewell. And when Sam was finally out of sight, he whispered it into the wind.

"Goodnight, brother…"

**END**


	2. Prime Dreams

_(throws hands in the air) Okay! I bowed to public demand and tried to continue this. As such Upgrade is on slightly minor hiatus while I flesh this out. Hope you enjoy._

_I do not own Transformers - as much as I'd like to._

**

* * *

**

**Prime Dreams**

Blinking through the light and the dust, he could see there was only one of them this time. The one that had explained his destiny, his supposed purpose. And he was staring at him with an expression that 'smug' didn't quite cover.

Sam considered himself a realistic person. While perfectly aware that he wasn't going to wake up with a six-pack and more money than Steven Hawking had brains, he did feel that he should have some control over his mind while unconscious.

So could someone please explain to him why instead of fantasising over strawberries, Mikaela in a bikini and the hood of a decidedly non-sentient car, he was stuck in the land of permanent-sunset-giant-robot-heaven?

"What the hell?"

"Hello again, Samuel Prime"

Sam didn't even bother watching the Prime kneel down; choosing to close his eyes and rub his temples in frustration.

"This isn't a dream is it? I'm actually here."

To prove it, he pinched his arm, grimacing at the expected pain.

"You refused to listen to us willingly," the Primes replied. "So we requested that Optimus use more underhanded means. The suggestive state of recharge allows us to connect when the Matrix is merely in your radius. You cannot leave unless we wish it, or is your body is woken from the outside."

Sam started pacing, the mech's apparent arrogance really starting to grate at him.

"You guys are billions upon billions of years old!" Sam snapped. "How is it not one of you has learned the concept of patience? Is it too much to ask for a few days to clear my head?"

"In this current situation, yes," the Prime replied. "You lifetime is entirely too short to waste even a single night. Even though the Decepticons don't know of your true origins, your actions have made you a target. You **must** take the teaching we offer you."

"Look, I don't care if my lifetime is short compared to you guys! Technically you've already shortened it – if my life keeps at its current pace I'll be lucky to see 21! If life insurance salesmen had a sixth sense they'd bolt at my shadow!"

"Regardless," the Prime continued.

"No! No 'regardless!'" Sam interrupted. "I asked for time. And by that I mean at **least** 24 hours with only me and my imagination in my head."

The optics of the Prime seemed to narrow, and he began to reply…only to vanish in a hiss of static. Sam had enough time to register the oddity, before being cruelly yanked away.

* * *

"Dude! Finally!"

From his position on the bed, Sam blinked wearily.

"Huh? Wah?"

From above, Leo glared at him, removing his hands from the boy's shoulders and leaning back off the bed.

"You were yelling in your sleep. Tell me that's not gonna be a regular thing."

Sam blinked furiously, trying to clear the interrupted sleep schedule out of his head. "Uh, no, no it's not."

His roommate rolled his eyes. "Good. Cause next time I'll just cover you with pillows and let you get smothered. Good night."

When Leo had crawled into his bed, Sam ripped his covers off and headed for his bag. He'd thought contact was necessary to go wherever the Primes had taken him, but apparently…ahah!

His hands closed on the Matrix, hiding the light so Leo wouldn't complain, and trying to ignore the vicious buzzing in his head. He headed back for his bed, tossing it on the mattress and ripping a pillowcase off.

"Okay, no more mister nice human."

* * *

Bumblebee had broken out of recharge the second Sam had woken, his sensors highly intuned to Sam's vitals, and was already contemplating driving off before the boy came to vent at him. Optimus had informed all the Autobots of the Primes' revelation, but unlike most of them, Bumblebee was less in awe and more worried. The Matrix kept trying to corner Sam, force him to acknowledge traits he was only just starting to consider he had. Backing him into corners and demanding things would only result in the boy fighting them every step of the way.

Sam did not do responsibility well unless he came to the conscious decision to take it. It wasn't so much a dislike of the job as much as it was an innate belief that he would screw up, even if he was surrounded by others who could see his potential. It reminded him of Optimus, back in the early days of the war, though he doubted Sam would appreciate the comparison. He'd warned Optimus of this, though whether he'd in turn warned the Dynasty of Primes was another story.

And now, the scout's prophecy was coming true. Sam was storming down the stairs, muttering curses under his breath and making more noise than was truly necessary. In his hands, the distinctive readings given by the Matrix called to him dimly.

The front door to the dorms slammed open to reveal Sam bringing back a leg – apparently having kicked the door since his hands were busy, and glared at the Camaro.

"You!"

Bart Simpson's _'I didn't do it' _was Bumblebee's offering, but the glare didn't subside, and Sam strode up to him, gesturing awkwardly with his hands to roll down his window. Bumblebee complied, and Sam leaned in to talk to the radio.

"I know it wasn't you, but I know you were in on it. So give _this…_"

At 'this', he dropped the Matrix, now wrapped in a pillowcase to keep anyone from touching (and inevitably turning it to dust) it into the passenger seat.

"…back to Optimus. And tell him through whatever quotes you can find, that if don't get just a _little_ time to process this, _that_ is going back to Egypt and I'm going to take out his ankle joints with a chainsaw! Gottit?"

'Sir, yes sir!'

Sam rolled his eyes. "Great, yeah. Funny. Nice choice."

His threat made, the fury seemed to ebb, and he headed back, giving Bumblebee a short wave goodbye. When he was out of sight, Bumblebee activated his comm. system, looking for Optimus. Given the speed of the connection, the Prime couldn't be far away, or had been expecting this call.

'_Sam woke up, Optimus,'_ he explained in Cybertronian. _'He's given the Matrix to me and wants it gone.'_

He could hear his leader sighing on the other end. _'You don't seem surprised.'_

'_I know I'm not a Prime,'_ Bumblebee began, '_and I don't know what the Dynasty is planning, but I do know Sam, and this is not going to achieve anything than making him resist all the more.'_

'_I'm starting to realise that,'_ Optimus replied. _'Regardless, the Primes did say they had a 'last resort' they wanted to try should their other attempts fail. Can you get the Matrix into his proximity again?'_

Bumblebee took a moment to think out some strategies, settling on one that had a chance of success.

'_I can try Optimus. I think I know someone who can help.'_

* * *

The next day, Sam had passed Bumblebee with his typical pat on his hood, but for once he wasn't the one Bumblebee had his eye on. No…today his sights were set on a slightly sleepier target, one that was currently moaning the noise coming from his roommate's phone.

Still in the room, jamming a pillow over his head as his phone went into another rendition of 'Second to None'.

"Come on…" Leo whined. "Its eleven in the morning – its practically dawn man!"

The phone stopped…and immediately started up again.

"Urgh…I'm kill that guy…."

He ripped the covers off and stormed over to the phone, wincing at the light coming through the windows.

"What do you want?" he growled. "Sam just left, I know you saw him, and I know you better hearing than me so you _know_ that phone is in here. So stop **calling him and let me sleep through class already!**"

'_Straighten up soldier!'_ came the reply. _'lend me a helping hand,' 'Special delivery!'_

Leo just sank deeper into the pillow. "Dude, I don't speak mute robot. Speak English!"

The phone abruptly cut off, and then beeped indicating a new text message. Flicking through the buttons, Leo squinted to read the text.

NEED FAVOUR. PACKAGE IN SEAT – HIDE IN ROOM SO SAM CAN'T FIND IT.

+ WEAR EARPLUGS TONIGHT. WAKE HIM UP AND I WILL RUN YOU OVER – BB

Leo sighed. And to think, these were the _good_ alien robots.

The phone beeped again.

PS – PLEASE DELETE THESE MESSAGES. BB

He rolled his eyes and headed outside. He had a good idea where he could hide something so long as it wasn't too big – he had an old computer monitor lying in the room, the insides were gutted – shredded by his own curiosity years ago, but he'd never bothered to get rid of it. Sam would never even think to look inside.

As for the second piece of advice, it looked like he'd be hunting for a late date tonight…

* * *

After last night's drive, Sam didn't bother going back to his dorm, instead heading straight to the library after classes to catch up. Given the two weeks he missed, it was a miracle he was hanging on – he had to give Leo credit, for a guy who missed just as much as he did, he was coping far easier. Then again, he'd gotten into Princeton, so his roommate was smarter than people probably figured.

As a result, it was already night before he got back, he said a quick hello to Bumblebee, and peered in the front window.

"No Matrix," he said. "You give it back?"

'_Yeah, yeah, yeah!'_

"Great. See ya tomorrow. We still haven't checked out the town yet, and I can spare an afternoon."

'_I'm so excited! And I just can't hide it!'_

Sam laughed and headed in. The second he was out of Bumblebee's sight, the smile vanished and he rushed upstairs. As much as he wanted to trust Bee…he wasn't born yesterday.

Before he reached the door, he rummaged through his bag…good, they hadn't slipped it in again.

Leo wasn't home…that was good – the guy wasn't happy about last night. Sam hadn't been able to nod off, and in exchange, his tossing and turning had kept Leo up. He probably had a date…or 3 given his current pace.

He checked his drawers, under the bed, in the bed, other bags, boxes, shelves…wherever the Matrix was, it didn't appear to be here.

Sam collapsed on the bed with a smile, and closed his eyes. Things were apparently going right for once.

* * *

This wasn't the Matrix.

Sam tensed, looking round in the darkness. Something wasn't right here.

_"We understand that you won't listen."_

"Huh?"

The voices were bodiless, wrapping him up in warmth and calm.

_"You resent us for our actions."_

"What?"

_"But we do what we must…"_

"Look what's going on?"

"_If you will not listen, we must show you."_

_"We apologise…to you and Optimus, but we must."_

"Hey, wait!"

Something rushed through him, and he fell, eyes wide open as he woke up.

_'Okay, I'm never complaining about the Matrix again. Least it doesn't make me feel crazy!'_

He wanted to roll over, throw his head under a pillow and sleep till morning…

…Only to find he couldn't move. At all.

For that matter, that didn't look like the roof of his dorm room. It was silver, clearly metal, and the walls he could see were the same, devoid of the posters and pictures that two teenage boys were prone to hang.

Fear was starting to seep in, as he willed his body do move, twitch…anything.

_'What's going on...'_

"Prime, hate to interrupt your recharge but Prowl needs to see you."

_'Prowl?'_ Sam questioned, and stilled as his body sighed.

"I'm coming, Jazz," he said, pulling himself up and heading for the door. Sam was little more than a passenger in his own body, and suddenly realized that whatever language he was hearing and understanding, it was decidedly _not_ English.

But that quickly dropped to the bottom of his list of issues when his caught sight of his reflection on the walls he passed as he reached the door.

_'Oh this can't be good.'_

The red and blue paint job was gone, but he recognised the shape. He'd seen it once, on a dark night, back when the world seemed so much more simple.

He was Optimus Prime.

_To be continued . . ._


	3. Prime Tragedy

**Tragedy**

Cybertron had an alluring, if rather morbid quality to it. Where Sam had always related metal walls and shining surfaces to sterility and cold, the building in which he walked had a comforting aura with features almost organic in design.

He longed to stop, to take a closer look, but Optimus and Jazz passed them too quickly to focus, and all he could do was let himself be dragged along. Besides, he had another distraction. Deep down, he could feel something alien prodding his consciousness, not him and connected _to_ him at the same time.

_Fear, worry, nervous, fear, tired._

Feelings not too far from his own, but detached enough to distinguish them. They had to belong to Optimus.

The Prime reached a set of doors, which quickly slid open to reveal a room filled with unfamiliar mechs surrounded by computers, holographic simulations and a variety of maps. It reminded Sam of the brief glimpses he'd gotten of the 'war room' at Diego Garcia.

As Optimus walked through, heading towards a mech Jazz had made a beeline for; Sam couldn't help but notice that every eye was on the Prime's frame.

_Fear, nervous_…and a slip of something that passed too quickly for Sam to recognise.

The new mech straightened when Optimus reached him, nodding in greeting.

"Prime," he greeted (said), smoothness and authority mixed with a depressive note. "We need to decide on a course of action. I have the most effective strategies programmed into the battle simulator."

Optimus sighed, and Sam could almost _feel_ the weight on the mech's shoulders. "What do you think our next move should be"

The mech hesitated, and gestured to one of the monitors.

"It all depends on what you want us to focus on, Optimus," Prowl replied. "We know Megatron is staying within the city limits, but he has his forces spread out across the planet. A portion appear to building something, others are trying to get to the Allspark, others…"

"Choose what you think is most important and go from there," Optimus interrupted, and headed back out.

"Prime?" Jazz questioned, receiving only silence in reply.

* * *

Deep in Optimus's processor, Sam was transfixed by the emotions running into him.

Fear, nervous, frustration…anger… Optimus appeared to be heading for his room, but his steps stalled when he heard someone trying to catch up. A quick glance over his shoulder made him realize that Prowl had followed him out, and the smaller mech was staring at him with something not unlike sympathy.

"We need you in there, Optimus," Prowl said. Optimus looked away.

"There's no point. Give me a history text or an organic sample and I can come up with a dozen theories and plans to study it, but I know nothing about war."

"Very few of us do," Prowl replied. "But we are learning. Our skills can be applied to the most varied of situations." "

You're a tactician, Prowl," Optimus said, still refusing to look at the other mech. "You know the best courses of action in ways I'll never understand. Choose and have them follow you."

"With us due respect, Optimus," Prowl began, with Sam noting a hint of anger slipping into his tone. "It is not me the Autobots choose to follow. It is you. They need you to be the leader we know you are."

_Anger…_

"I was the head of the science division," Optimus cried in frustration. "I never meant to become some kind of…idol or leader that you all seem to think I am!"

"Optimus Prime-"

"And stop calling me that!"

Optimus swung round, optics glaring fierce enough to make the other mech step back. "I am not a Prime. I can't. be. A Prime."

With that, the larger mech transformed, rolling down the corridor, passing his room and heading for the outside world, leaving a silent mech behind, and a human stowaway more than a little reflective.

* * *

Optimus had left the shelter of the building, and kept going until he reached a multitude of crags deep in a mountainous region. Sam could see some of the sense of it – one mech would be impossible to find in this mess.

But there was another reason which Optimus immediately made apparent by activating one of his cannons and blasting the rock surfaces. Repeatedly.

'Why?' he shrieked, with enough intensity to make Sam flinch, quickly realising Optimus was only thinking the words, not unrestrained enough to let them loose in the world., blasting another rock. 'Why, why, why!?'

_Rage, anger, frustration…_

Eventually, his gun didn't seem to be enough, and he took to punching the walls, still uttering that one word in his mind.

Sam didn't even know how to process this sight. The concept of Optimus…losing control like this didn't seem possible. Except in battle, the Prime had iron control, choosing to express his anger through words rather than actions.

"This must be early in the war," Sam mused. "Really, really early. Poor guy couldn't deal wi-"

He stopped as thought A slid into thought B and groaned.

"Oh, okay. I get it now. Very good, Primes. Very 'Yoda.' Can I go now?"

Finally, Optimus' punches seemed to weaken, and he collapsed on the rock face. As a final act, he thudded his head against the wall, and closed his optics, blocking out the world for the both of them.

"Why did things turn out like this?" he asked the wind.

"Cause Primus hates us all."

Optimus' head jerked up, focusing on the figure that had somehow snuck up on him. Jazz was giving the destruction around him an appraising eye, and grinned at the larger mech.

"You shouldn't come out here to blow off steam. Save it for the Decepticons – they'll run out of your way."

It had clearly been meant to cheer him up, but Optimus just sagged, curling round himself in a rare moment of weakness.

"This was a mistake, Jazz," he began. "I never meant to become a leader of vigilante group."

"Hey, man, I know," Jazz replied. "I was there. But someone needed to take control, and you had the most experience. Plus there's the whole Prime symbol."

Optimus groaned again. "We still don't know if that's what it means!" he snapped. "If I am a Prime, shouldn't I know it? The Primes of old had incredible powers. I'm barely keeping it together."

"You're learning, Op," Jazz insisted. "Nobody becomes great overnight. We're all rooting for you."

Optimus stayed silent, and Jazz crossed his arms, staring into the distance.

"Megatron's going into the South Sector. According to our scouts, very little backup. Prowl thinks it's our best chance to end this war before it gets out of hand."

"He's planned the attack?"

Jazz smiled, though there was no mirth in it. "He's got a couple. None without heavy losses to our teams."

Optimus shook his head. "Megatron is an experienced warrior. He would never give us any opening, even one as slim as this. "

Jazz suddenly swung round, cutting Optimus off and staring into his optics, daring the larger mech to look away. "He needs to you make the choice. Nobody else will follow if you don't give the go ahead."

Optimus's hands clenched, and Sam shivered at the sheer raw anger echoing through the mech.

"So…now I not only have to ask mechs to kill, but to choose which mechs die?"

He punched the wall. "I wont take this responsibility Jazz. I _can't_."

"Op…" Jazz started. "Megatron's gunning for you. He's going to come after you whether you fight or not – he already has. You can't run from this."

The larger mech didn't answer, and instead walked deeper into the cliffs, not stopping until he heard Jazz transform and walk away.

_Pain, guilt…_

* * *

Sam had just gotten over the latest confrontation when the images began to fade. He wondered if maybe, for once, the Primes had listened to him and this trek through memory lane was over.

And then he saw a rock heading straight for his face.

"Agh!"

_Fear, fear, fear_

He ploughed through it, wheels skidding on the metal roads, immediately crashing through another. Once it had happened a few times, Sam had calmed down enough to realise he was still in Optimus, albeit back in vehicle mode and heading towards something as if Hell was chasing him.

_'Jazz, where are you?'_

Optimus's voice was frantic over the comm., and judging from the panicked reply that came through, muffled slightly by the sound of gunfire, Jazz wasn't much better.

_'It was a set up! You were right! We're losing mechs everywhere, and he's going straight for the command.'_

'_He thinks I'm there,'_ Optimus replied with dawning horror. '_Who took command_?'

The reply chilled both minds in the body. _"Prowl and Arcee. Prowl had the tactics but Arcee knew the area.'_

Optimus sped up, but when the next rock crashed into them, Sam blacked out.

* * *

They were back in the base, but Sam felt the shudder pass through his non-existent body at the emotions flickering through him.

_Guilt, fear, guilt, pain, pain, guilt…_

As his sight focused, he immediately understood why.

Prowl. Or what was left of him.

His head was crushed, every limb either missing of mangled beyond comprehension. Those strange appendages that had reminded him of Bumblebee's door wings were on the berth, but piled to the side amongst scrap that had probably been peeled off. Almost all of the mech's armour was gone, leaving nothing but a skeleton wrapped in wires and leaking energon lines.

Sam wasn't Cybertronian – but he had long passed the point of seeing them as machines. It was the same as seeing a mangled corpse, and wondered if it was possible to throw up.

He wanted Optimus to turn away. To stop…staring at the wrongness on the table. Instead, the mech kneeled, forehead leaning against the edge of the berth, and whispering something so quietly that Sam didn't catch it at first.

"…orry. I'm, so, so sorry."

Sam choked back a sob as Optimus's own emotions flowed through him, filling him to the brim with their pain, their horror, their tragedy. There was no stopping them, and he found himself mourning.

Mourning for this…friend that he'd never met. Never would meet.

Suddenly, a hand was on his shoulder, and Optimus looked up to find Jazz staring at him, his face no doubt a mirror of Optimus's own despair.

"He knows, Optimus."

The Prime thudded his head against the berth. "How many did we lose? How many died today that didn't have to?"

"Prowl made a choice" Jazz whispered. "He thought it was worth the risk. Everyone did. Nobody was forced to go."

"But I knew," Optimus whispered. "I knew there was something wrong with the plan when you mentioned it, but I didn't do anything. Prowl made the wrong choice because I wasn't there to help him."

"Prowl still would have made you consider it," Jazz offered, but Optimus shook his head.

"At least then I would have been in command. He and Arcee were both becoming skilled warriors, but against Megatron?"

Jazz flinched. "She's gonna make it…we think. Two other femmes are almost beyond salvation, and Wheeljack's mentioning words like 'combiner' and 'melding' and Ratchet ain't stopping him. But I'm not sure any of them will be the same."

The Prime sighed, pushing himself to his feet and, much to Sam's relief, taking his eyes off the body in front of him.

"I can…"

Sam shuddered again at the roll of disgust coming from the statement, flowing over but not quite drowning the sadness.

"…I can justify the deaths of the other mechs," Optimus finished. "The strategy acknowledged it, but I can't justify this. If I had accepted my role then he'd still be here. Nobody should die in my place just because I'm too selfish to think about what others need."

"Prime?…" Jazz asked hesitantly, deliberately choosing the title rather than the designation.

Optimus tensed, and then relaxed.

"Show me Prowl's plans for future strategies. We have a war we need to win."

_Resignation, pain, guilt…hope…_

The two began to walk out, when Optimus stopped at the door, casting one last look at the mech lying broken on the table, and Sam fell into darkness again.

* * *

…Landing on a hard rock surface.

"Ow!"

He winced, grateful that his previous injuries never appeared to show up in the Matrix, and stood up to glare at the six mechs staring down at him. His face was raw, wet with tears he didn't remember shedding.

"Did you have fun with that?" he snapped, furiously rubbing his face and trying to force down the alien emotions that had tagged along with him. "Does Optimus know you've been playing memory lane?"

"He does not," the first Prime admitted. "He knew we were planning something, but we did not let him in on the details. We just wanted you to understand."

Sam wanted to be angry. He wanted to yell and scream and throw rocks at paintjobs…but the fight was gone from him. Slowly, he dropped back into a sitting position.

"All right, I get it, I think. The moral of the story is 'running only makes it worse,' right?"

"Yes," another Prime answered. "Although the situation is different, if you are not ready, you may pay in memories, but those around you will pay in blood."

Something crashed behind him, and the boy turned to see Prowl's body lying on he rocks.

Only…the paintwork was yellow, the wings Camaro doors, and the face frightfully familiar.

Bumblebee was lying broken, damaged beyond repair, and Sam watched the last dregs of light glimmer into darkness.

* * *

"Ahhhh!"

Sam jerked upright, panting as if he'd run a marathon. He shaked his head, desperately trying to shake that last memory from his mind, instead trying to focus on the room filled with soft blue light.

But it wouldn't leave. And the harsh emotions from his tour of Optimus's mind made it all the more vicious. Thank god Leo wasn't in the room – he didn't know if he could keep it together with company.

Though he was surprised. Nobody had woken him up, which meant the Primes had let him out of their own accord. But how had they-

Wait…soft blue light?

As he breathing calmed, it started to dim, but Sam's eyes chased it to the computer monitor lying on the ground.

He took one more calming breath, and stepped out of bed.

* * *

Outside, Bumblebee was in turmoil. Sam body had been reacting violently in the last few minutes, crying and screaming in his sleep. Not long after the boy had jerked up, screaming at a pitch that had resulted in lights from his neighbouring rooms.

Now he was heading down the stairs, Matrix with him and heading for the Camaro. Bumblebee braced himself for the rage that he'd no doubt receive from the boy.

But instead of slamming doors, Sam quietly slipped out the front door, a bag slipped on one shoulder, and stared at the Camaro for a brief second before darting towards him, discarding fingers in favour of his whole hand stroking his paintwork. It was as if he thought Bumblebee would vanish if he didn't first prove his existence.

Sam slipped into the front seat, adjusting the bag just so before laying his head on the wheel. Running a brief scan, Bumblebee could tell the boy was trying to fight back tears. The last time he'd seen Sam like this, Prime had fallen, and Sam had been a virtual zombie in their hideout.

What had happened? What had Sam done? Worse, what had _the Primes_ done?

Before he could ask, Sam's hands tightened on the wheel, and his head came back up.

"I need to talk to Prime," he said, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

"Now?" Bumblebee asked.

"Now."

_To be continued ..._


	4. Prime Decision

Glad everyone's enjoying this - will be on a minor hiatus as I'm off to Ayacon next week (and have about a month of cosplay work do do in a week), so the next chapter isn't likely to show up until the end of the month, so savour slowly.

Disclaimer: I do not, never have, and never will own Transformers.

**

* * *

****Decision**

He didn't care if it was ironically appropriate - if the Autobots were going to meet him regularly, they really had to find a better place to meet than a graveyard.

The drive was long, even with the roads empty, which gave Sam some time to collect himself. The tears had dried, the red puffy cheeks faded, and the memories forced down into the recesses of his mind that stored his encounter with Barricade, being pinned on the roof by Megatron, and Prime's death. It was getting pretty crowded down there.

He could see Optimus in the distance, watching the Camaro, and Sam pressed on the brakes, a silent request to Bumblebee to stop. The Autobot had been mercifully silent the entire trip, not even attempting to get him to talk even though it was clear he wanted to. But right now, this was between him and Optimus, Bumblebee had to stay out of it, just for now.

"Sorry, Bee," he whispered. "Can you give us some privacy? I need to talk to him alone."

The car gave a reluctant whining sound, but the door opened anyway. Sam smiled and gave the dashboard a soft pat.

"Thanks, Bee."

* * *

Optimus was uncertain if Sam had been around them long enough to recognise nervousness. When Bumblebee had commed him, his spark had been filled with dread. A Sam who was angry, or frustrated, he could deal with – he had before. A Sam that was a sobbing hollow wreck was new, and something he had hoped never to see.

As the boy walked towards him, he stilled himself, staring at the boy's eyes.

Hurt, defeated, and oddly sympathetic.

…What had the Primes done to elicit such a reaction? Did he even want to know?

"Sam," he greeted. "Are you all right?"

The boy's gaze dropped, focusing on the gravestones nearby, and Optimus's sagged slightly.

"Perhaps a foolish question."

"They showed me something. Something I never wanted to see."

The teens still refused to look him in the eye, and Optimus kneeled down, trying to get his attention.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I know this-"

"They said you didn't know what they were gonna do," Sam interrupted, head shooting back up to catch the Prime's optics. "Did you?"

Optimus shook his head. "No. They said it would be better if I didn't."

A choked laugh was the reply. "Yeah. Better for them."

His gaze hardened, and Sam's eyes looked ready to cry again. "They put me in your body," he began. "Near the beginning of the war, I think. I went where you went, felt what you felt."

Optimus shuttered his optics in understanding. What better way for the Primes to help another Prime understand they were not alone in their fears, that their apparent idols were not as flawless as they had believed…

"They showed me Prowl's death."

The Peterbuilt reacted as if he'd been shot, jerking back and freezing, horror written on his face too long to hide it. Now it was his turn to look away, hands clenching at his sides. Of all the things they could have done, to show him that? Optimus's greatest failure, to force him to feel the pain and anguish of knowing someone you cared for had died a long and arduous death because you wouldn't be there for him?

…The Primes were going to die for this. Again. Slowly. How could they? How _dare_ they?

"Optimus?"

Sam was watching him, now with an intensity he rarely saw in the boy. In a sudden rush of understanding, Optimus realised Sam wasn't here to yell or scream or fight about his fate. He was here because he wanted to know if Optimus was all right. Over something that had happened when his race had barely achieved sentience. It was an oddly warm thought.

The Prime forced himself to relax, and stood back up, gazing into the distance, and reassuring the boy with his previous thoughts.

"That was a lifetime ago."

Sam swallowed. "Does it still…hurt…like this?"

The boy had a hand digging into his shirt in the general area of his heart. Optimus could understand the sentiment.

"It fades with time," Optimus replied. "But no, it never truly leaves."

He heard the boy sigh, and a slight rustle warned him Sam was sitting down, fingering the bag slung over a shoulder. A quick scan made the contents known, and the mech crouched down again.

"Sam-"

"Relax, I'm not asking you to take it."

Optimus blinked. That was unexpected.

Sam gave a heavier sigh. "Honestly, I hate every last one of those bastards, and I'd quite happily toss this over my shoulder and be done with it, but they're right. I can't…I can't ignore this and then live with myself if something happens I should have stopped."

At first he thought the boy was referring to Optimus's own death, but there was something detached in his voice that made him second guess.

"Did they show you something else? Consequences?"

A choked laugh escaped. "You could say that. They showed me Bumblebee, broken and beaten like Prowl, only I saw him die, like you. Just lying there, fading away."

Optimus clenched his hands again, beginning to agree with Sam's earlier description of the Primes. Showing Sam Optimus's more painful memories, then warping them to fit their purpose? Arrogance apparently had no limit, especially when tinged with desperation.

Sam held the Matrix up. "I just…I guess I thought you might want to talk to them. I don't know why."

That was a lie, and they both knew it. Sam wanted Prime to yell and threaten them, because he was too small to be anything other than amusing. And certainly Optimus was considering it – they certainly deserved it.

But…no. It would only hinder the situation. Right now Sam and the Primes had to work out their difficulties alone. Later, when Sam was more comfortable he could make his feelings known. There was already too much tension without him adding to the equation.

The answer must have been plain on his face, because Sam was putting the Matrix back and standing up, looking a little disappointed.

"So," Optimus began. "What are you going to do?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair before heading back towards where he knew Bumblebee would be waiting. "I'll talk to them in the morning. I'll find out what a 'human Prime' actually has in its job description, spend the afternoon freaking out, and then inevitably sleep through whatever they have me do in the night."

"Good luck."

Sam didn't look back.

* * *

By the time Bumblebee got him back to his dorm, the sun was coming up. The Camaro was clearly unhappy that Sam and Optimus hadn't told him what was going on, but he wasn't willing to pry.

Leo was still MIA, so Sam pulled out the Matrix, holding it in his hands as he sat cross-legged on his bed. The buzzing noise danced around his head, taunting him to come closer.

With a heavy sigh and a heavenward eye roll, he tightened his grip and close his eyes…opening them to a crowd of metal giants.

* * *

_Afternoon…_

Leo's face loomed into view, grinning like a devil and offering up a box.

"Pizza."

"_Please_."

Sam's hand dug into the box, dropping the papers in his hands to savour nothing but meat, cheese and bread.

"Oh, god," he sighed in bliss. "God I needed that."

Leo had, admittedly, been a little curious about what had happened the night he'd been away. When he'd come back to the room, Sam had been sitting on his bed, looking as if he was meditating. An hour later, his eyes had snapped open, and he'd headed for the shower muttering not so complimentary things about a certain alien race.

In the afternoon, he'd hunted down his roommate in the quad, surrounded by course applications, notepads and some very warped timetables.

Leo couldn't take it. He had to know.

"What exactly are you trying to do?"

Mouth still full of pizza, Sam merely handed him over a list of different classes the university offered. Seeing that Leo still didn't get it, he forced the pizza down and wiped his mouth.

"The old guys in the Matrix want to make sure I get the 'most' out of my education," he explained. "So they want me to try and co-study those classes on top of my current ones while they pound in whatever Cybertronian mumbo jumbo they think I should know."

Leo raised his eyebrows. The list had classes on things ranging from politics to psychology to law. And Sam wasn't done yet.

"And on top of that," he muttered, handing him over a few pamphlets. "They're very eager for me to be looking at extra curricular activities. Very specific extra curricular activities."

"Self defence…chess team…track team?"

Sam shrugged. "I guess they figure I'll never be strong enough to take on a Decepticon so might as well work on what's kept me alive so far."

Leo shook his head and sat down beside him. "I do not envy you, man," he replied. "With a list like this you're gonna have a busy few years."

Sam winced and picked up another slice of pizza. "Actually…that's my list for this year."

Leo dropped the papers.

"Dude! How many hours do they think there are in a day? The university isn't going to let you take all this on! Its too late to sign up for more courses anyway!"

"I know!" Sam moaned, gesturing to sheets in front of him. "Apparently, in order to 'avoid suspicion,' I'm to sign up to all of these online with pseudonyms. That way nobody bats an eye cause they don't know."

His roommate shook his had in disbelief. "Never mind anyone finding out, how are _you_ even planning to pass all of these? Nobody could study _and_ pass all that at the same time."

At that, Sam gave a nervous grin.

"Actually…I don't think that's going to be much of a problem. Hey…can I ask you something?"

Leo shrugged. "What?"

"I'm not growing antennae or anything on the back of my head am I?"

That morning… Sam didn't bother with any yells or complaints, and instead slumped down to the ground, fingers on his temples. He'd rather hoped the next time he'd come here he'd have Optimus backing him up, but clearly the other Prime was trying to stay out of it. Sam couldn't help but wonder if they'd ordered him to.

"You are all monumental jackasses and deserve to be dead. You know that right?"

Some winced, and when the foremost Prime turned and nodded his head, the others backed off, disappearing into the light. The first Prime kneeled in front of Sam, still not quite eye level, and nodded.

"We understand, but it _was_ necessary. It would have taken too long for you to come to this conclusion on your own."

Sam glared at him. "Fine. I'll do what you want, but the next time you're gonna use Optimus or Bumblebee for your sick little lessons, the Matrix is gonna get up close and personal with a microwave. Gottit?"

The Prime smiled, apparently having stopped listening after 'want.'

"Good. Now we need to prepare you."

Sam sighed.

"Look, what exactly is it you expect me to do? I've spoken on the Autobot's behalf a couple of times, and then almost went crazy with the Allspark information. That's not exactly 'Prime' material."

"As you've seen, was Optimus perfect the moment he was sparked?" the Prime replied. "As you are so fond of saying, you are a 'normal kid'. You have a long way to go to realise your true potential."

"Okay, fine," Sam snapped, getting back to his feet and glaring up. "What is it you need to 'teach' me?"

The Prime in question suddenly vanished, causing Sam to blink…only to find a human scale version of the mech standing in front of him.

"Wah!"

He stumbled back, tripping over his feet – only to have the mech's arm dart out and grab him, keeping him stable.

"Easy," the Prime soothed. "It is all to do with the mind here, I have merely changed my form so that it is easier to communicate."

"Gee, thanks," Sam muttered.

"As for teaching, we will help educate you on the matters of Cybertron," the Prime continued, choosing to ignore him. "The more you know about the layers of this war, and the necessities of our people, the more you can help. While on the outside, you will study as many subjects that could be necessary to accommodate humanity's needs."

Sam felt a small tickling sensation in the back of his mind, and tensed up when it started to make sense.

"Wait, wait, wait," he started. "There's no way I can pass all those. I won't remember half of it!"

The Prime nodded. We will also alter your mind, to help you on the outside and here."

Sam tensed. "Define 'alter.'"

"The original attempt of merely transferring information didn't work," the Prime explained. "You had the information, but were unable to access it. And when you could, it was indecipherable and uncontrollable. So we will have to teach you from scratch, but some…adjustments we can implement will make learning easier."

"Again, define adjustments," Sam interrupted. "I'm not going to wake up and find myself Cybertronian am I."

"Given how often you throw yourself in danger, the idea was considered-"

"Oh, no way!"

"-But vetoed on the basis that it would make your upbringing to this point redundant," the Prime finished. "Instead we will merely be coaxing parts of your mind to make the most of their potential. The human mind is a surprisingly effective processor for being composed of organic matter."

Sam still looked nervous. "Coaxing as in?…"

The Prime smiled. "As in being able to read and commit to memory a nine hundred and three page book in thirty two point eight seconds."

Oh. Oh…

"That…could be useful," Sam admitted. "Ultra photographic memory's good. Guess I don't mind that, just so long as that's all you're doing."

The mech's optics flickered, a sign Sam had noticed through the Autobots that usually meant they were hesitating in what they said.

"…That IS all you're doing, right?"

"Your roommate has returned, I think it's best we continue this tonight."

"What have you done?"

"Farewell Samuel Prime."

"Hey!"

* * *

Sam glared at the ground as he remembered the encounter. "Stupid giant Bionicle wannabe's" he muttered, picking up some of the papers again and looking around for his pencil. He'd spent the entire morning panicking over what they'd done. He'd checked everywhere he could, and had gotten into the habit of scratching the back of his head in fear of something growing, but everything was fine. All he had was a headache. Whatever they'd done was apparently not physical.

Oh, there was his pencil. Leo must have kicked it away. It was out of arm's reach.

He leaned over, intent on rolling it back with his fingertips, when the pencil quivered on its own. Sam barely had time to blink, before his hand flexed…and the pencil flew into his hand. Leo's squeak was enough to make Sam drop it, and the two could only stare at the now inanimate object on the ground.

"Sam," Leo said. "Do that _again_."

_To be continued…_


	5. Prime Directive

Well now...this is a few months behind schedule isn't it?

Sorry, but between making of costumes, the high of the convention, the stress of moving, and then trying to hunt down a decent internet cafe, trying to get this done has been a nightmare. I'll try to stay on top of it from now on though. Enjoy.

Transformers does not, has not, and never will belong to me.

* * *

**Prime Directive**

Optimus had rolled up on the outskirts of the campus just as a yellow Camaro pulled out. Bumblebee's door opened as Leo got out, grumbling something about doormats and inconsiderate aliens. In his hands was the pillow case-wrapped Matrix, and Optimus opened his own door, hologram staring at the boy.

"Bring it here, Leo," he requested, his voice more clipped than usual.

Leo was still muttering as he climbed into the passenger seat, tossing the Matrix onto the hologram's lap. The image immediately fizzled out.

"Hope you can talk some sense into them," Leo muttered. "I don't know how many more head wounds I can take before I start losing IQ points."

The boy rubbed his head in reminder. Ever since the incident with the pen in the afternoon, Sam had unfortunately gotten into the habit of throwing things without notice. The worst had been a Mountain Dew can at his head. The only saving grace was that it had hit Sam on its trip, too – the boy had been moping on his bed with an ice pack ever since.

Sam had tried to replicate the pen stunt a few times, only to have it fly off in the wrong direction, or have it thrown with enough force to imbed it in a wall.

He'd started to avoid sharp and pointy objects after that.

Unfortunately, he couldn't seem to replicate the control of the first attempt. For the rest of the day, whenever he wasn't concentrating or was performing a rather elaborate hand manoeuvre (something Sam did have a fondness for), Leo found himself having to dodge nearby objects that suddenly became airborne."

The lamp had been scary, though not quite as much as the laptop. He was just grateful Sam didn't seem to have the strength to lift the beds.

But, thankfully, Bumblebee had been just as worried. He'd called Optimus, who in turn had asked both of them to slip the Matrix out to him.

"Thank you, Leo," Optimus said.

"Just get my roommate back to normal, man," Leo urged, only to get nothing in reply.

"Yeesh, you're welcome," the teen snapped, stepping out the still open door and walking towards Bumblebee. "All right, Stripes. Get me to a bar or something 'til he's done."

'_With pleasure, Captain.'_

He slipped into the front seat, and grinned as he fingered the wheel.

"I have wanting to give this a shot."

'_Watch it, pilgrim.'_

The Camaro's engine revved, and the car turned to head back…and screeched to a halt.

Standing in the centre of the road, arms crossed and eyebrows raised, was Sam.

* * *

The Primes stood silent and regal as Optimus stormed towards them, exuding every iota of power he had. Compared to them he was an ember facing 6 suns, but he didn't quite care.

"Optimus Prime?" the first Prime greeted. "You have…reservations about our actions?"

"Hopefully as much as you have," Optimus sniped. "I let the incident with my own memories slide, but altering Sam in such a way without his permission, is something I can't let stand."

"It was for his own good," another answered. "There was no alternative."

"No alternative?" Optimus snapped. "You want him to trust you and doing everything in your power to drive him away!"

One of the other Primes moved forward, optics boring into his own.

"Or perhaps you are more worried about what this will do to your relationship with him."

Optimus glared at them. "I asked him to trust you. If he can't, can he be willing to trust me again?"

"Well it would be a helluva lot easier to do that if you weren't talking about me behind my back…"

All seven Primes tensed, and turned to look behind Optimus. Sam was only a few metres from the Peterbuilt's feet, looking more than slightly agitated.

"Sam…" Optimus started.

"You need a better gopher," Sam interrupted, walking forward and giving a half wave to the other Primes. "I've been to firework shows that are less obvious than Leo."

He glared at the Primes. "And don't you start with the high and mighty routine. You weren't willing to tell me what you did, don't stand there and pretend you didn't have doubts."

"True," the first Prime admitted, glancing back at the others who in turn fell back. "But we felt it was best you discover the benefits yourself."

"Benefits!" Sam snapped. "Any more bruises and people are gonna think Leo and I are in an abusive relationship!"

"Not to mention that if you can't control it, people are going to notice if things start…reacting around you," Optimus added.

Sam winced. "Yeah. Gotta love the government breathing down your neck."

"It was n-"

"Say necessary again and I'll toss a boulder at your head," Sam interrupted. "I mean it."

"And so do I," the Prime argued. "This was the only option to keep you safe."

As one, Sam and Optimus glanced at each other, then stared at their elder. "Come again?"

The Prime straightened. "As you, Samuel, already know, we decided against gifting you a Cybertronian frame as it would only hinder your purpose right now, but this does leave you defenceless. The gift of telekinesis was our only option."

"He has Bumblebee," Optimus defended, though the earlier fight in his voice was missing. "And I owe him my life – if he ever needs me I will be there."

The Prime shook his head. "But that's the very point Optimus. You **can't** always there, and you **won't **always make it."

In all three minds, the vision of Sam pinned down by Barricade, Scalpel's saw descending, and his body flying through the air from Megatron's blast flashed past. Sam was the first to shudder, brushing off the bad memories.

"Okay, going out unarmed is bad, I get that," he began. "But…why telekinesis. It's almost impossible to control, it's giving me a headache, and I can't lift anything bigger than a cushion, what's the point."

He'd been ticking off the points with his fingers, and finished with pointing at the Prime, who chuckled.

"Because telekinesis is the spark right of all Primes."

"What?" Optimus interrupted. "I don't-"

"You don't, Optimus," the Prime interrupted. "Because it takes a great amount of processing power to control and master. So much that we can't afford to synchronise any other weapons, or even take on an alternative form. For survival, it was more practical for you to take on your weaponry and vehicle mode. Had there been no war, you would have no doubt discovered the gift eventually."

Optimus turned away; leaving Sam to quickly move out of the way as the mech stepped back, trying to process this new information. It at least explained why The Fallen, who was so worshipped by Megatron and the other Decepticons had been so physically defenceless.

But had this war taken away something else he hadn't even known he'd had? A gift that Sam had now been blessed with?

He roughly shook his head and came back to reality. No, as they (and to a lesser extent Sam) had said, it was more of a burden than a curse. In his own way he was lucky to not have this talent.

When Optimus appeared to have composed himself, the original Prime continued.

"Without weapons or any other issue to worry about, Samuel was perfectly suited for this gift. Humans already have a limited 'six sense' as it is – all we did was amplify his own mind. Any deeper scans would not show any real difference in his mind from that of any other human. It is completely organic."

"Except I'm now capable of making people think I'm being haunted," Sam argued. "How do I control this…thing?"

"With practice," the Prime urged. "Right now it's uncontrollable because it's new to you. But as you said, you cannot move anything of any real measure. With time and training, you will be able to move as much as we can, but will have the willpower to stop yourself from doing it accidentally."

"Eventually you will be able to defend yourself against any Decepticon," one of the Primes in the distance piped up. "So long as you prepare yourself properly."

"We will help you," another continued, the others moving closer again. "It will get easier, you have no need to worry."

Sam sighed. "Guess asking you to get rid of it was a long shot anyway. You have a tendency to do whatever the hell you want and hope it doesn't bite you in the ass."

Optimus winced at his choice of words, but the first Prime merely chuckled.

"We have spent an eternity disconnected from the world. As such, we can't fully appreciate the problems you will face. All we can do is what we think is best. And so far, you haven't given us enough reason do undo anything we have done."

"Go now," another Prime finished. "We will see you tonight, Samuel. For now I believe you and Optimus should talk."

The landscape shone, and Optimus closed his optics…

…Only to find himself back in truck form, with Sam in his passenger seat, taking his hand off the Matrix.

"So," Optimus started. "You followed Leo?"

Sam smirked, giving a mock wave to the boy in Bumblebee's passenger seat. Leo returned it somewhat nervously.

"Pretty much. He was talking too much, trying to distract me. I don't think he realises he's actually a pretty quiet guy most of the time. When I heard Bumblebee pull out I guessed they were up to something, just didn't know what."

"Sam…" Optimus began. "I'm sorry. The Primes should have prepared you more for this. If I had known they would push you so solidly down this path I would have stepped in."

The boy patted the dashboard. "Thanks, big guy. But I don't think it would have made a difference anyway. They've made up their minds and stopped listening to complaints long ago."

"Nonetheless," Optimus continued, "I should have stepped in, and I didn't. I promise, I won't let that happen again."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Sam warned, stretching in the seat. "They've got four years of school to hammer God knows how many centuries of knowledge into my head, with whatever means necessary. Far as they're concerned, think they'll do whatever it takes to make sure I turn into this ambassador you all need me to be."

"What we need is for you to be yourself," Optimus insisted. "Before any of us knew what you were, we wanted you for the job. Don't ever think that you can't succeed at this."

Sam laughed. "Still don't have your confidence, Op, don't think I ever will."

Optimus was silent for a few moments, leaving Sam to wonder if the conversation was over, before his voice sounded out again.

"I promise, Sam, that any argument, any decision, any suggestion that you make, I will stand by. We trust your judgment. Now, and in the future."

The teen closed his eyes, fighting down the odd happiness that came from hearing that statement.

"Thanks, Optimus. Thanks."

_To be continued…_


	6. Primal

Should I make excuses about how long this took, or should I go with honesty and say that once I got permanent Internet back, distraction and writers block destroyed any hopes of regular updates? Either way, enjoy.

Do not own Transformers, sadly.

* * *

**Primal**

"Stupid…irritating…think-they're-god…bastards!"

Bumblebee watched the rock sail through the air, smashing into the crudely drawn picture on the wall, and flinched.

This couldn't be healthy.

It had been a month since Sam had caught Bumblebee and Leon out, and the Camaro was desperate to patch things up. But Sam had taken off that morning with barely a 'good morning,' like he had every Saturday for the last few weeks. Bumblebee hadn't minded too much…until he'd discovered that wherever Sam was going, required public transport.

His human was picking a bus over him? A bus? Why didn't he just run across a freeway? It would only be slightly less dangerous.

So, when he was certain Sam wouldn't spot him, he'd followed, determined to see just where Sam was going that he didn't want his best friend to see.

He'd been more than slightly tense when, after leaving the main street, Sam had headed straight for a far too familiar warehouse - a warehouse that still had a rather Optimus-shaped hole in the side. When the mech began to hear the crashes, he transformed and crept in…and stared.

Sam was pacing around a large pile of boulders, cursing and snarling under his breath. Every now and then he'd reach a crescendo, and one of the boulders would go flying towards a wall. A wall where a life-sized child's scrawl of what Bumblebee assumed was a Prime had been drawn. Given the size and the shakiness of some of the lines Sam had been practising his ESP when making it.

"Oh they think flesh is less, so they can do whatever they want 'cause they're bigger…" Sam muttered. "Wish I could take a couple tons of salt and just rust 'em!"

His hands flew up and a boulder went flying, smacking the drawing right in the head, causing him to smirk.

"Heh, my aim's getting better."

Bumblebee chose that moment to step into view.

"Sam?"

The teen's head whipped round, and Bumblebee jumped as part of the wall beside him cracked, though thankfully didn't dislodge.

'_Somebody has to find their centre,'_ Bumblebee's radio offered, stepping closer. Sam's head immediately ducked, hand running through his hair to hide his face.

"Ah…sorry, Bee."

Bumblebee just shrugged and made up the rest of the distance, crouching down to meet him. When the boy's head looked up to meet him though, the face was confused.

"How…what are you doing here? Did you follow me or something?"

'_I've been so worried!' _in a rather frantic female voice was his reply, and Sam groaned, slouching down on the rocks, Bumblebee quickly sliding down to join him.

"I'm sorry, Bee. It's just…I'm helpless here and there's nothing, **nothing** I can do about it."

Bumblebee made an apologetic sound, unsure if he had any sound clips that wouldn't be taken the wrong way. Judging from the state of this place, this had been building for a while.

The Primes kept Sam pretty busy. Kind of dangerously busy – he'd spotted far too many packets of aspirin in the teens weekly shopping, along with a lot of rolls of duct tape and tubs of plaster…Leo really needed to learn how to duck, and the Dorm supervisor was threatening to kick him out if they broke the window again. What little free time he had from all that was more or less dedicated to web chats with Mikaela, leaving the Camaro alone in the drive. They didn't talk anywhere near as often as they used to and Bumblebee really didn't appreciate it.

"I told Mikaela last night," Sam started. "I'd been putting it off, but there are only so many web chats you can have before your girlfriend spots your dirty laundry hovering over your bed. She got angry."

Bumblebee raised the ridges above his optics, and Sam quickly backtracked.

"Not at me. At them. The Primes. She got into this huge rant…things got broken…think she kicked Wheelie by accident, not sure, just heard him squeal.

'_I'm sorry.'_

"Its just…watching her react I realised I've just laid down and let myself be beaten," Sam continued. "When it all started I was so angry," he snapped. "I thought I could get a say in it all, but they just steamrolled over everything I said. It's like talking to a wall. That smirks!"

The smaller shards of rock started to shake, but as quick as it started, Sam relaxed his hands and calmed himself.

"They never gave me any time because they weren't going to give me any choice." It was happening whether I liked it or not, and they act like I'm supposed to be _grateful for it."_

He threw up his hands in frustration. "Last night they even mentioned enhancing my cells to make me live longer. I was standing right there while they discussed it and I might as well not have been there for all my opinion counts!"

The hands came down and he sighed. "It's why I need that stupid mural. Can't do anything to them, but I can pretend."

Bumblebee looked away, before choosing to use his vocaliser.

"I…wa-want…you to…live…longer."

Sam looked guilty, even as the mech grabbed his throat to steady his vocaliser, before collecting himself.

"Look, I'm not saying I wouldn't mind a few extra decades," he explained. "But not if everyone around me isn't going to get the same privilege. The way they were talking I'd be looking at living twice as long as Mikaela. I don't want that kind of extension, Bee, and I just wish they'd take that into account."

As much as the mech hated to admit it, Sam did have a point. The Autobots, family and friends that they were, would be no substitute for blood family or lovers. Related though he might be, Sam was not Cybertronian - though he couldn't help but wonder if the Primes intended to change that later down the line…

He quickly banished the thought as Sam stood up, picking up a good sized rock and tossing it a few times before throwing it at the mural. It hit with enough force that Bumblebee was willing to bet it wasn't just his arm. Or maybe Sam's physical lessons were paying off more than the scout realised.

"Mikaela made me realise something," Sam said, looking up at his best friend. "I have to let them do what they want right now 'cause there's nothing I can do to stop them, and most of what they're doing is, as much as I hate to admit it, useful in irritating ways. But they'll keep teaching me, and eventually I'm going to get strong enough to say 'no.'"

Bumblebee raised an optic ridge at the unlikliness of that, and Sam smirked.

"Hey, they don't have bodies; it's all to do with the mind in there. And they just gave me super powerful mind powers that get stronger the more I use them. It might not be the greatest edge, but I'll take it."

The look was so focused yet mischievous Bumblebee had to fight back a smirk of his own.

"Well, since you're here, wanna give me a ride home?" Sam asked, a small grin replacing the smirk on his face. Bumblebee needed no more encouragement, quickly transforming and letting Sam slip into the driver's seat before heading out.

* * *

Sam had been right. The first sighting of Sideswipe's impeccable bodywork and every student in view started drowning in their own drool. Leo had started waving hands in front of their faces, trying to get a reaction.

"I think you killed them, dude," he remarked to the car. Sam just shook his head and went for the passenger door. Bumblebee had been noticeably absent from his spot this morning and he was mildly curious as to why.

The door opened with no reluctance, and no sooner was Sam comfortable did the sports car head back the way he came at a rather harrowing speed.

"Sideswipe…" Sam began, pleased that his voice wasn't shaking as much as it should be. "Campus, speed limits, parking tickets, fines? Anything ringing a bell here?"

He swore he heard the car groan, but the speed did decrease. Slightly.

"Why does your race create machines with just about satisfactory specs and then refuse them the chance to use them?" Sideswipe snapped once they were clear of campus and heading for the freeway. Sam just shrugged.

"I don't know, to prove a point maybe?" he offered. "So what's up?"

"More what's coming down," Sideswipe replied. "Got a transmission last night and Prime wants you to meet the new guy."

"So why you and not Bumblebee?"

"Ah, Bee headed off this morning to make sure it was one of ours. Since he was already at the site I figured I'd do my good deed for the stellar cycle and pick you up en route so he didn't have to. I can get there in plenty of time."

His engine then revved in frustration as the speedometer shook just under the limit.

"Or at least I could if it wasn't for these ridiculous speed restraints!" he snapped.

Sam hid a smile. "I'm kind of surprised, from what Bee's said I didn't think you bothered to pay attention to them."

"Prime found my stash of speeding tickets," Sideswipe admitted. "He gave me specific orders to stay below the limit. Can't go against a direct order like that, not even me."

"Too bad, man," Sam consoled. Even he could tell the mech hadn't been made to take it easy. Anyone who felt the need to keep wheels on his feet at all times was no doubt programmed to move, and move fast.

"Tell me about it," Sideswipe whined, before taking on a more sugary tone. "I mean, the only way out is if Prime, or someone of the same rank, tells me to ignore the order. A Prime can let me go faster…"

Sam didn't even need to hear the emphasis the mech was putting on 'Prime' to get what he was saying. He had a feeling this little loophole was the reason he was getting supercar treatment, rather than any feeling of goodwill.

"You want me to tell you to ignore Optimus?"

"Nothing like that!" Sideswipe answered back in mock horror. "It's just going to be hard to make it there in time at my current pace. If I was allowed to go a little faster then maybe…"

Sam laughed and knocked his head back against leather as they came to almost empty freeway. "Fine. Get me there on time soldier."

Sideswipe snickered.

"Right away, Prime, sir."

And forced the human Prime to be glued to his seat as his frame flew into triple digits.

* * *

Even with Sideswipe doing everything he could to break the sound barrier, it was still a few hours before the Autobot made it to the base.

"Just be grateful I wasn't taking you to Diego Garcia," had been Sideswipes reply when Sam had teased him about the time. "Oh, hey…there's trouble."

With the car passing the gates and heading into the restricted area, Sam had to agree. Optimus was in plain view, arms crossed and not looking particularly happy. One foot was tapping the ground, and judging from the men standing not too far, was making the ground shake with some force.

"So…mad at you or mad at me?" Sam asked.

"Probably a bit of both," Sideswipe replied. "And a little at himself."

"For not seeing this coming?"

"Oh yeah."

Sideswipe rolled to a stop and opened the door just few metres away from the Peterbuilt, giving Sam enough time to get out with some grace before driving away. Optimus glared at his retreating soldier before turning his attention back to Sam.

"I wondered why Sideswipe was being so agreeable," he muttered.

Sam shrugged. "Sorry, big guy, but I kind wanted to see how fast he could go, too."

Optimus sighed. "We do need to see what official clearance you can have for my mechs. Prime is automatic leadership, but your government will no doubt have issues if you can give orders and expect them to be followed."

"I would have thought the Autobots would have had issues, too," Sam added.

Optimus sighed and shook his head before starting to walk towards a hanger, with Sam quickly following.

"Those who were in Egypt understand, Sam. They all saw you rise with the Matrix. We might not have fully understood it, but we accept it, as have you."

Sam quickly noted the 'in Egypt' part of the sentence, but winced at the Prime's final words, which didn't escape Optimus's notice, and he quickly changed the subject.

"How is your training coming?"

The teen shrugged. "It's coming. I can lift quite a bit of weight now, but adrenaline seems to help. It's just getting things to go where I want them to go that's the tricky part."

"Ironhide would be happy to help you with your aim if you need it," Optimus offered, and Sam gave a nervous grin.

"Thanks, but I've got a pretty good area for target practice right now. So, where's this new arrival I got rushed here to see?"

Optimus sighed. "Missing, which we should have foreseen. As I said, those of us in Egypt have an advantage over any new arrivals, and he is having difficulties adjusting to the situation."

They stopped at the hanger doors, and Optimus gestured for him to go in.

"Wait inside, Bumblebee will be along shortly, and we'll have tracked him down soon."

"If the guy's not all that keen on meeting me, sure you should force it?" Sam asked. "First impressions might not be the best if he's pissed. Remember Sideswipe?"

Who didn't? The corvette had done enough collateral damage to a city to get registered as a Decepticon and it had taken Ironhide and the bulk of NEST's resources to change that.

"Putting it off will only make it worse," Optimus insisted. "If he wants to stay on Earth he will have to compromise on his beliefs, or everyone will suffer."

With that, the Prime transformed, pulling away as Sam gave a brief wave and headed inside. The hanger's doors were closed shut, but natural light gave it a light glow, making the dust in the air very obvious. It was empty, though judging from the amount of skid marks on the ground, the Autobots used this as their personal hanger, or maybe just the twins and Sideswipe, who knew.

But in his quick glance around the room, his eyes kept drawing to a random spot in the air. The dust...there was something wrong with how it moved. He walked closer, and the problem became clear. The dust was being repelled from that spot. A large blob in the hanger was completely free from the dust...

Just as he lifted a hand to test out the white space, it 'flickered,' and Sam jerked back with a yelp as a blue and silver car shimmered into existence.

"Maybe you're not as dense as you look," came the voice from within it, and Sam relaxed, giving the car a proper once over, finally choosing to reply with a low whistle.

"Not a car nut, but that's the Bugatti Veyron right?" he asked. "Good looking choice."

"I did not choose it for its 'good looks'," the car snapped. "I chose it because it the car your race has deemed the most technologically advanced."

Sam frowned. "Um...I didn't think the stats actually affected your performance."

"They do not," the Bugatti replied. "But it gives the right impression to your kind."

Suddenly the car shifted, and Sam took several more steps back as the car began to transform, beginning to understand that Optimus describing the new arrivals 'issues' had been a little optimistic.

'_He chose 'the best' because he 'is' the best...and we're not. Oh boy...'_

His opinion didn't change when the Autobot finished transforming and looked down upon him with a disdainful glare that up until now Sam had thought was patented by his Astronomy lecturer.

"Look," Sam began again, mentally begging Bumblebee or Optimus or Ratchet or even one of the twins to show up. "Maybe we got off on the wrong foot...pede...whatever. I'm Sam. Sam Witwicky. Optimus has me training to be the Autobots media-"

"Mirage," the Autobot interrupted. "And I am well aware of who _you_ are."

How any sentient creature could make 'you' that much of an insult was nothing short of astonishing.

"Uhh...good to know?" Sam offered. _'Bee where the hell are you?'_

Mirage stared at him for a moment, before shaking his head, hands clenching in obvious irritation.

"How can a human be a Prime?" he snapped. "It's completely intolerable! I don't know what trick you pulled to fool the others into accepting you into the fold, but it will not work on me."

Okay that was it. Sam was done being polite.

"Hey!" he snapped right back. "I didn't want this, okay? When Mission City was all said and done I was happy to take a step back and let the Autobots do whatever Autobots do. But when I did, a lot of people died. And only got one of them back to boot!"

"Do not over flatter yourself with importance..." Mirage began, only to be cut off again.

"Hey!" I'm talking here! And I do not want the title of 'Prime' any more than Optimus did at first, but, guess what? It's not exactly optional. You either are, or you aren't. Got a problem with that, I've got a Matrix full of guys who'll beg to differ."

By the end of his rant, he was pointing and glaring at the mech, whose optics had taken on a shade close to icy thunder. And then they closed, as the mech folded back into himself.

"Listen closely, human," Mirage growled once he was back on four wheels. "Optimus may have made up his mind about you, but I certainly have not. At his request I will tolerate you, but I will never accept you as a Prime."

With that, he transformed and sped off, flying past Bumblebee who had reached the door, a final word spat in Sam's direction.

"Ever!"

_To be continued. . ._


	7. Prime Interrogation

**Prime Interrogation**

Sam gave a low whistle as he stared at the spectacle outside the garage, eyes lingering indecently long over the fine curves and gleaming body.

"That, is the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen."

"_Why shucks, pardner,"_ Bumblebee's radio perked up, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Not you!"

Mikaela laughed and slid off the Camaro's bonnet, putting her arms around Sam's shoulders when he walked up.

"Aw, come on, Sam, he's just jealous that you finally got time off and he has to share you."

She pouted. "I am too."

Sam grinned. "Well, maybe we can be a little late. A little detour never hurt anybody right?"

Mikaela grinned. "Yeah, I know your 'detours'. We'll be lucky to get there at all."

"Well we could just stay home..."

"Oh?..."

Hanging out of the window of the Camaro, Wheelie started making gagging sounds when the two began to kiss. Bumblebee tolerated approximately fifteen seconds of making out in front of him before honking his horn. The two immediately broke if off and glared at the Camaro.

"We're coming, we're coming. Jeez, it's not like we're going to have much time to do this when we get there," Sam snapped. "Let me appreciate what I get."

Bumblebee replied by swinging his doors open, and Sam rolled his eyes before picking up his bag.

* * *

It had been the most draining year of his life. Never mind The Fallen or Megatron's resurrection or even the Star Harvester...in the months that had followed he'd been sorely tempted to gouge his brain out. Books upon books upon website upon lecture upon extra curricula...he'd taken (and passed) more courses in a semester than most of his fellow freshman would pass in their university careers, and that was just the day shift.

And night was just as bad. Five days out of seven the Primes yanked him out of his dreams and into limbo to discuss Cyberton. Its history, its politics, the miniscule events that had gathered into the powder keg of war, the appropriate way to program sparklings (and he was really a little worried about just why they thought he needed to know that to be honest...).

He'd never been happier to leave a place. Oh, part of him had enjoyed it, no question. And in a few months he'd probably be chomping at the bit to get back, but, for now, exams were over, and he wanted to go home. Home…where the most brain draining exercise was deciding whether to watch _Lost_ or _24_.

So he had, and loved every second of it. Long drives with Bumblebee over terrain they knew perfectly, catching up with Miles, keeping Mojo off Frankie, and doing all those things he'd spent many months trying very hard not to think about to Mikaela. And letting her do all the things she'd been trying very hard not to think about to him.

It was heaven. One Sam had no intention of leaving...until the call came that ruined his foreseeable future. A new Autobot had arrived, closely followed by several Decepticons. The danger had kept Sam from meeting him, instead getting his information from Bumblebee. But now the 'Cons were starting to resurface with frightening regularity, and Bumblebee had gotten the call to bring Sam into Diego Garcia. Sam had been given a spiel about getting familiar with the base and the new 'Bot, but even Wheelie knew it was to keep the human Prime as safe as possible. He hadn't been happy about it, but Sam accepted the inevitable after convincing General Moreshower that Mikaela should come along too.

If he was going to suffer, he was at least going to get SOME reward for it.

* * *

Despite their best attempts, the several hours it took to make it to Diego Garcia went without Bumblebee revealing anything about the new arrivals. Even Wheelie bouncing on his dashboard enough times to dent it didn't sway him.

"Oh come on, Bumbler!" he whined. "Who's the new loser?"

Mikeala sighed and quickly whapped the RC car on the head.

"Ow! Fine, new Autobot, jeez..."

"Just tell me he's not like Mirage and I'm fine with it," Sam muttered, seat slid back as far as it could go now that they were in military grounds and no cop would see.

Mikaela just laughed at his whining.

"Oh come on! You met him like, once. For five minutes. Maybe he just had a bad landing"

"_I think I made myself clear,"_ Bumblebee's radio offered.

"Listen to the car 'Kaela. Guy just does not like me."

Mikaela rolled her eyes. "He cannot be that bad."

"Uh oh," Wheelie squeaked. "Company at two o'clock."

Both teenagers turned to the window just in time to see Sideswipe speed past. Their attention was barely on him an instant when a yellow blur sped by the opposite window.

"_They're heeeeeere..."_ Bumblebee's radio whispered, and Wheelie yelped, jumping into Mikaela's arms.

"Aw, man! Tell me that's not Sunstreaker!"

Applause answered, and Wheelie groaned again.

"I should have taken my chances with the Decepticons."

The two cars were now flanking the Camaro, giving them a closer look at the yellow car. Though not a stingray, the car was definitely a corvette, and shone as if dirt wouldn't dare touch it on pain of death.

"So you know him?" Sam asked, keeping his eyes on the new car and trying to resist the urge to grab Wheelie and throw him out the car. Mikaela could be funny when it came to Wheelie and his...grabbyness.

"Of him," Wheelie replied, finally taking his head out of the girl's cleavage. "The way some of the 'Cons would talk about em...if you think Sideswipe's a handful, NEST ain't gonna be standing by the time Sideswipe **and** Sunstreaker feel at home. Guy's a warrior, the trigger-happy-shoot-first-and-let-others-question-the-corpse kind."

"So...like Ironhide?" Sam guessed, and Bumblebee answered instead.

"Sort of. But not as held back."

Both teens grimaced, wondering just how bad someone could be if Ironhide could be considered laid back compared to him.

* * *

When Bumblebee began to slow, the Corvettes sped up, speeding past and up to the hangers, transforming on the way. By the time Bumblebee had rolled to a stop, both teens had stepped out to meet almost identical mechs, with only the smallest of differences save the paint job.

Sideswipe gave a half wave and a grin. "Hey, little hero. Wanted to make sure Sunny was the first to meet you. Before anyone put any ideas into your head."

Wheelie discreetly tried to crawl back into Bumblebee before anyone spotted him.

Sunstreaker however, just winced. "Don't call me that."

"Sure thing, Sunny," Sideswipe chimed. "Anyway, this is Sunstreaker, my wingman, sometimes quite literally. Feel free to call him Sunny."

Judging from the glare 'Sunny' was giving Sideswipe, that didn't strike Sam as a smart idea.

Mikaela was still staring at them, eyes flicking as if she didn't know where to look.

"You're so alike...are you like Skids and Mudflap?"

Sideswipe laughed. "Twins? Nah, though you're not the first to think it on this base. Just forged from the same frame. Back in the day you'd have plenty of mechs with the same frame running around."

"We just work well together" Sunstreaker finished, kneeling down to get a closer look at Sam. "We have an innate appreciation for battle that few Autobots understand."

Sam resisted the urge to flinch as blue optics focused on him. "Right, gottit."

Sunstreaker shook his head in disbelief. "Even with the Allspark as a weapon, how did something as frail as you survive long enough to take down Megatron?" he said, though everyone listening could tell it was directed at himself. "Much less carry the spark of a Prime..."

Sam sagged as Bumblebee tensed behind him. Another Mirage.

But rather than continue with negativity, Sunstreaker stopped, and transformed back into a car and drove off, leaving Sideswipe sighing.

"Ah don't worry about him. He's fine with it really, just struggling to come to terms with it."

"You sure about that?" Mikaela asked, and Sideswipe shrugged.

"Sunny's a complicated guy sometimes, but he takes other mechs opinions a lot more to heart than they think. If Prime, Ironhide and myself all say it's true, then it's more than enough for him. Just don't expect sparkling conversation."

Sam smiled. "I can live with that."

* * *

"Yo, yo, yo!" Mudflap cried. "It's the little Prime, come to pay us a visit."

"Along with Bumblebee! Give me five bro!" Skids called, raising his hand, faltering when Bumblebee brushed past him.

"Oh fine! Be like that you mute taxi!"

"Surprised you showed up without armour, bro," Mudflap continued, flanking Sam as they headed towards the hanger. "His Highness has been practising his glare all week."

Sam groaned.

Skids, who had been listening in, just laughed. "You shoulda heard 'im after you left last time, yo. Depraved, wrong, Uncronian. Crime against nature he said."

Sam groans hit an even lower note. "Really?"

Skids shrugged. "Well, crime against somethin'. Wasn't that easy t'understand by the end of it all."

The twins both laughed and bowed at the hanger doors.

"But don't take our word for it, bros."

"They're all just dyin' to see you."

* * *

When the four of them had entered the hanger Optimus and the others were using, Mirage had shot him his 'lower-life-form' glare the moment he thought Optimus wasn't looking. The mech hadn't said a word, but his had ire said it all.

"Sam, Mikaela," Optimus greeted them, kneeling down to their level. "Your studies have gone well?"

Sam shrugged. "Pretty sure I aced everything. Little worried I may have been a little more advanced than I should have been in Astronomy, but my professor hates me anyway so it'll probably even out."

Optimus smiled and turned to Mikaela. "And your father?"

"Doing pretty well," the girl replied. "I have Wheelie shoot him if he ever gets twitchy fingers. Hasn't even looked at a car outside of the shop in months."

"Anything for my Goddess," Wheelie chimed, causing a mutual optic roll among those present. Bumblebee quickly grabbed him to keep him from 'thanking' Mikaela again.

Optimus to his credit, didn't even stumble. "I'm glad you're adjusting. Your government was worried about letting a former Decepticon out into the world, but there has been no cause for alarm?"

"Not unless fighting with Bonecrusher-the-dog and losing counts."

In the corner, Ironhide smothered a chuckle with little success, and Wheelie groaned in Bumblebee's arms.

"One time! And it was a fluke!"

Optimus stood up, seemingly satisfied with their wellbeing.

"Sam, tomorrow I wish to show you the workings of NEST. And there are many members of your government who wish to get to know you better who may try to take up the rest of your day. For today I suggest you relax – Major Lennox is in the human quarter of the base, I'm sure he can show you around."

The teen shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

Optimus nodded, and turned to Mirage, who quickly masked his former expression.

"Mirage, escort Sam and Mikaela to the human quarter."

The mech froze at the request. "Me, Prime?"

Optimus's reply held no room for argument. "Yes."

Bumblebee's optics flickered between the two, twitching on his feet as if getting ready to throw himself into a fight. Optimus refused to break his gaze, and Mirage remained so still Sam half wondered if he'd crashed due to shock.

Suddenly the mech seemed to reboot, and turned to walk out, offering a curt "Follow me" to the teens, who looked at each other before following. Bumblebee made to follow, only to have Ratchet's arm block his path.

"Sorry lad, but Optimus wants to talk to you."

"So..." Sam began. "How's life at NEST treating you?"

Mirage didn't answer, still stalking ahead. Mikaela tried a different tactic, jogging up to him in a bid to get in front, only to have the mech speed up, keeping her steadily behind.

"Guess the mood means you wish you'd never come?" Sam continued. "That or the 'Cons have ripped out your vocals too and have too much pride to use your radio like Bumblebee. Don't blame you. That can be awkward at the best of times. Not that I have a problem with Bumblebee using it or any-"

"Sam!" Mikaela cut in. "Rambling."

The boy flashed her a sheepless grin. "Oh right, thanks."

"Tell me human, do you know how to destroy the Decepticons?"

The teens stopped and looked up. Mirage had stopped and was now staring at them with an unreadable expression. Sam frowned at the question.

"What?"

Mirage growled. "I said, do you know how to destroy the Decepticons? Remove their blighted sparks from this world?"

Sam was getting a sinking feeling he had one more exam to go, and he hadn't studied.

"Um...kill them one by one if they attack?"

The answer didn't seem to please Mirage.

"Can you kill Decepticons without the aid of historical artifacts?"

"Not really..."

"Do you know how to restore Cybertron?"

"No..."

"Can you build another Star Harvester?"

"What? No!"

"Can you make another Allspark?"

"No!"

"What's with the 20 questions?" Mikaela butted in. "Why would Sam know those things?"

Mirage crouched down, had slamming into the ground beside them. "Optimus calls you Prime, calls you _brother._ Says that you have been chosen by the Ancients themselves. That you and you alone shall receive their knowledge, their teachings. So why do you know nothing of use!?"

Sam faltered. "I...well, you see...it"

Mirage didn't let him finish. "Optimus should have that honour, not you. He may have sacrificed Cybertron, but under him we can at least end the Decepticons once and for all. You are worthless!"

Sam stood frozen, pale in the face of Mirage's raw anger.

"He's your human ambassador," Mikeala defended, only to have Mirage laugh in her face.

"Please. Humans may threaten all they like, but they will never make us leave. We have too much they want. Why am I the only one who sees that your position is superficial at best!"

"Is there a problem here?"

Mikaela sagged in relief. "Will!"

The soldier came from behind Mirage. "Making friends, Casper? You're always such a friendly guy."

Mirage twitched, and Will levelled his gaze.

"I think its time you went back to Optimus. And don't think he won't hear what happened here."

Slowly, Mirage's head turned to glare at the man.

"Fine by me," he snapped, quickly transforming and speeding off, revealing the human quarters that had been hidden by his bulk. Sam barely seemed to notice, only jerking when he felt someone's hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see a sympathetic smile on Will's face.

"Come on, I'll show you to your room."

* * *

Sam slumped into his designated room with a sigh. Right behind him Mikaela locked the door, and both flopped onto the bed.

"Okay," Mikaela sighed. "So you weren't exaggerating about Mirage."

Sam sighed again. "I think Mirage has a very set view of the world. There is him, and then there's the rest of the world, whose sole purpose of existence is to annoy him."

Mikaela's arms wrapped around Sam, curling them both into the mattress. "He'll come round, I think. Once you've worked your magic."

"Magic? Mikaela, I think the seven Prime's of old could materialise out of the matrix to harps and a full orchestra to promote me as a full Prime in a ceremony on Cybertron, and Mirage would probably call in sick!"

Mikaela just smiled. "I have faith in you."

She started to get up, much to Sam's complaint.

"Sorry baby, but you've already seen this place a few times and I haven't. Show me around?"

Sam's head thudded against the pillow. "I'm so tired...can we do the tour tomorrow?"

"Well, I could just ask Bumblebee?"

The teen faltered for a few moments before sighing.

"You'd better. I'm really not in the mood to run into Mirage or Sunstreaker right

now."

"Sunstreaker?"

"In my experience, staring inevitably turns into poking, and he's armed with swords. I'm not taking any chances."

Mikaela gave him a light kiss and headed for the door. "I'll see you later then."

Sam yawned. "Missing you already."

He waited until the door was closed, and the footsteps faded into the distance before he jumped up, grabbing his packpack, and pulled out the Matrix. Flopping back onto the bed, he fingered the relic with practised ease, and closed his eyes, falling into limbo.

_To be continued..._

* * *

_For reference, Sunstreaker is the 2010 Chevrolet Corvette (searched for 2010 corvette and the first image was yellow. Match made in heaven._

_And yes, in my universe Sideswipe and Sunstreaker or **NOT **twins. I'm aware that this is probably not a popular opinion, but I think given how rare twins probably are for Cybertronians, two sets surviving and getting to earth is kind of unlikely. Plus, fairly certain they aren't in the All Hail Megatron series, so it's not the first time. Originally there was going to be a whole team of Autobots coming down, but was really struggling to get them all in, so decided to make it just one. Sunstreaker was the easiest to write, so he won._


	8. Prime Time

_(sighs in relief)_

_Thank you to Epona for getting this done so quickly. I got on holiday in a few days and wont be back until the end of May, so was pretty desperate to get this one out before I left. Thanks for waiting as usual - you're often far more patient than you should need to be._

_Transformers does not belong to me._

_

* * *

_

**Prime Time**

"Walk with me?"

Sam rolled his eyes and headed in the same direction as the human-sized Prime.

"Prima right?"

'Prima' smiled. "You're getting better at telling us apart.

Sam smirked. After so many nights of getting yanked around the robotic limbo, he'd finally got round to asking for introductions. Prima was the tallest, and seemed to be the spokesperson of the six.

"True, still can't tell Vector and Nexus apart though."

"Oh, you're not in alone in that, I assure you. Have you been enjoying your time off?"

Sam laughed. "It's been great. I had a dream about a banana last night. It could play croquet and broke into the President's office."

Prima frowned. "That makes no sense."

"Kind of the point, Prima, kind of the point. I haven't had a good ol' fashioned nonsense dream all year. It was so nostalgic I woke up crying."

Prima shook his head. "And you were worried we would cause irreparable damage to your sanity?"

"It's part of being human Prima. You'll get used to it."

"Perhaps. Now, how are you doing? This is the first time you'll be in extended contact with Prime and his team since Egypt."

"Honestly? Not good. The old guys are fine, but this new guy."

"Mirage?"

"How'd you...oh right, I whined about it before didn't I?"

"Continue."

"Look, the government was already trying to bribe me into some position with the Autobots, so the human side was always covered. But what am I supposed to do about the mechs that weren't there when you decided all this? Sunstreaker doesn't believe it, and I've already given you my fill on Mirage. He doesn't see why I should have this honour, and thinking about it I-"

"We are not having this conversation again!" Prima snapped. We have been through this more times than we, and Optimus would probably care to count. You _are_ a Prime, you have a _right_ to our knowledge, and our brethren _need_ you, whether they realise it or not."

"But Optimus-" Sam began, only to be interrupted again.

"Already knows much of the history that we have taught you," Prima explained. "And has many, many vorns to learn what he doesn't. You do not, and as such take priority."

"So how do I convince them?" Sam asked.

"You will just have to show them your prowess," Prima insisted. "You are more than capable of proving your worth."

"So you keep saying," Sam moaned. "But words aren't going to work, and I'm pretty sure threatening them with flying boulders is frowned upon."

Prima chuckled, before cutting off abruptly. His head jerked upwards, optics widening.

"We have a problem."

"We? As in me or us?" Sam started. "Cause 'we' usually means me."

"You'd best leave now. And duck."

"Wha-"

* * *

Sam yelped as the blast rocked him out of his bed and onto the floor. Instinct taking over, he drew himself into a ball and stayed down. Moments later, a metal bar crashed through the wall, impaling itself in the space his body had just occupied. Shouting and shooting echoed through the wall, and he crawled towards the door, keeping to the ground, stopping only to grab his bag and deposit the matrix within it before continuing.

Dust billowed in when he opened the door, and he coughed harshly before pulling up his shirt.

"Mikaela!" he yelled, eyes squinting in the corridor lit only by emergency lights.

"Bumblebee!"

Someone was racing down the corridor, and a few moments later, two soliders raced down the hall, stopping to aid him. He tried to ask what was going on, only to be interrupted.

"We have to move you, sir."

"What is-"

"It's for you own safety, Mr. Witwicky. Your ride will explain if he can."

Pulled along the shaking building, Sam was guided out the doors in time to see a silver Corvette do a perfect 180 before slinging its door open. In the distance he could see gunfire, and the unmistakable forms of Decepticons, armed and racing towards the buildings. The brighter colours of the Autobots protecting the base grew smaller with every minute as they raced towards them.

Suddenly, his head was pushed down, and he was all but thrown into the car, the door slamming back and the engine rocketing off.

"Looks like the 'cons finally stopped licking their wounds," Sideswipe chimed, sounding more than a little grouchy that he'd been relegated to taxi duty. "Gotta get all the civilians out of the way."

"Where's Bumblebee?" Sam asked, searching out the window for a familiar flash of yellow.

"With Mikaela and any other official who was fast enough to get to him," Sideswipe replied. "He wanted to come for you but meant driving through _that_. Optimus ordered me to grab you since I'm the fastest here."

The building he was racing past suddenly broke apart, sending bricks and mortar across Sideswipe's path, forcing him to brake and spin in another direction, sending Sam flying across the seats.

"Yeah, might wanna think about a seatbelt," Sideswipe offered belatedly.

From the building, an unfamiliar black form jumped over wreckage, a bright yellow one tearing after it with fury. Sam's heart leapt into his throat at the colour, only to relax a fraction when he realised the paint job was Sunstreaker's.

"Yeah!" Sideswipe whooped. "That's my buddy. Primus I've missed him."

The mech in question had grabbed the Decepticon and tossed him to the ground, a sword pinning him down while fists crushed the face. Sunstreaker turned to glare at the other corvette, not even stopping his fists.

"If you're finished celebrating, finish your job and help me out!" he snapped. "He has friends, and I want time to enjoy this."

He stood up and stamped on the Decepticon's face, a sadistic smirk crawling up his features, and Sam gave a low whistle. And NEST thought Mudflap and Skids had issues...

"You got it, bud," Sideswipe replied, speeding off again.

"Looks like our defences ain't holding," the Corvette continued. "Gonna take a short cut."

The car suddenly shifted, skidding into a warehouse and flying through it. He crashed through a half open door, and then another into another building. The impacts were dulled from the fact that this was an Autobot rather than an actual car, but Sam could _feel_ his ribs cracking against the seatbelt.

Another blast, this time frightfully close, and the roof of the building began to shake.

"Aw man!" Sideswipe snapped. "Hang on!"

The seat underneath him suddenly wasn't there anymore, and Sam yelped, hands grasping for anything at the car gave way, disappearing in a display of shapeshifting. For a second he was in freefall, before Sideswipe's hand carefully wrapped around his waist, holding him to his chest as he skated out, wreckage flying around him, denting the walls and floor. A Decepticon, with deep orange platingwas getting up, having jumped through the roof. His optics were scanning the room, barely even aware that Sideswipe was there.

The 'con snarled something in Cybertronian, before locking eyes with Sideswipe, and the Corvette loosened his grip on Sam.

"You better get ready to run," Sideswipe warned. "Looks like I've screwed up."

His sword shot from his spare hand, and Sam made to move – just as the Deception shrieked, falling to reveal a burning hole in his back. Something flickered from behind him, and Sideswipe laughed.

"Now that's perfect timing."

Mirage appeared, still looking immaculate despite the dust, appeared unhappy with the assessment.

"Hardly. He was chasing me. You just made a handy distraction."

"Still, I owe you one."

Sideswipe had risen from the crouch, bringing Sam into view, and Mirage stared at him.

"Prime didn't think your skills would be useful elsewhere? What a waste of resources."

Sam winced, and Sideswipe looked around the room. The entrances were now blocked by rubble he couldn't drive over.

"Do me a favour Mirage and blast a wall so I can get out," he asked, beginning to transform back. "Need to get Sa—argh!"

Sam half screamed as a blast shot through Sideswipe mid transformation, sending in flying backwards into a wall, crashing into rubble. He didn't get up.

Sam then heard Mirage cursing, and his head turned in time to see the mech come crashing down. It seemed that the downed Decepticon was not so offline.

"Bludgeon!" Mirage roared, his gun coming up, only for him to scream as the other mech's arm smashed through the metal, dislocating Mirage's arm completely. The Decepticon, took the gun in his hand, and aimed it at Mirage.

"Bullseye," he snarked, pulling the trigger and sending a shot through the Bugatti's shoulder. Mirage's mouth stayed shut, but the sounds coming from it were unholy.

"Oops" he chuckled. "Missed. I'm bad for that, this could take a while, hope you don't mind. Just wait a minute until I take care of business, alright?"

His ride down, the other Autobot incapacitated, Sam was frozen, watching that gun slowly turn to him, along with the 'con's own personal weapon.

"Boom, boom."

Acting on gut instinct, Sam threw his hands protectively in front of his face as the balls of pure energy pulsed towards him, cursing the stupidity of it while he did so. They had as much chance of defending him as a piece of paper.

But with his eyes closed, he missed the looks on Bludgeon and Mirage's faces as the balls veered away in the direction his hands fell, flying into opposite walls.

"By the Allspark" Bludgeon whispered, watching as the boy, surprised he hadn't been hit, dropped his hands and stared at the two new holes.

"Huh..."

Bludgeon growled, and stamped on Mirage's chest as he stepped over him.

"Fine," the 'con hissed. "I'll rip you apart the old fashioned way!"

Orange metal loomed over him, and Sam backed up too quickly, tripping over his own feet. His head began to pulse, and, as orange fingers reached for him, the world began to blur. He couldn't hear Sideswipes half functional yells, Mirage's threats, or the explosions still shaking the building. Couldn't see the walls crumble, or feel the earth move.

All he could see was death, and the enemy taking him to it.

A stab of pain between the eyes forced him to close them, resulting in booming laughter from Bludgeon, but it was ignored for the one command screaming through his mind.

_I cannot die here...I __**will not**__ die here..._

His eyes snapped open, and something broke.

On the front lines, humans, cons and Autobots alike froze as a warehouse deep in the NEST base shattered, the resulting shockwave throwing them to the ground and sending orange metal flying.

* * *

"...am?"

His head hurt...

Genuine, bonafide, god-get-me-a-screwdriver-and-jam-it-in-my-ears-to-put-me-out-of-my-misery hurt.

And given that it was the only part of his body he could actually feel, Sam didn't even want to guess what it would feel like without the billion and one painkillers probably in his system right now.

"Sam?..."

Oh, someone was calling him.

Did he open his eyes?

"Sam?"

No, wait...

Light shot through tiny, little slits, causing him to groan, and blink before opening them fully. When the light cleared, Mikaela came into view, smiling with sympathy, but with the sharp anger in her eyes that warned he was going to be in trouble when he could walk under his own power.

"I knew you were awake," she whispered, hand clenching his tightly. "You've really got to stop almost dying on me."

Sam gave a shaky smile. "Hey, I've never 'almost died' on you before. Definitely never 'almost.'"

Mikaela tried to glare but failed. "Semantics, Sam."

Now that he was a little more coherent, Sam recognised the room as part of Diego Garcia's medical centre. Outside there was a gentle hum of people, soldiers and medics trying to clean up from the attack.

"What happened?" Sam asked, trying to piece together the night before. For the first time, Mikaela averted her eyes, tracing patterns on his hands.

"No one's really sure," she began. "Sideswipe was ordered to get you out, and you got caught by Decepticon. After that..."

"I did something," Sam answered. "Something broke loose. I felt it."

Mikaela bit her lip. "Sam, in the building you were in…something attacked a Decepticon. He literally crashed through the building's walls and kept going. The 'cons retreated after that, and the Autobots found him on the outskirts of the base's territory."

"Bludgeon?" Sam whispered, and Mikaela nodded.

"Ironhide recognised...what was left of him. He was a wreck – armour nearly disintegrated, and went through that wall at such force his head was crushed. Ratchet says he's never seen anything like it. The force it would take to do that to a Cybertronian...it doesn't exist."

Until now.

And it was in his head.

"I did it" Sam said. It wasn't a question, or a confession, just a statement, and Mikaela nodded.

"A lot of theories running around, but that's the keeper," she replied. "Whether you meant to or not, whatever you did made the 'cons run, and that's making a lot of people very interested."

"How interested?" Sam squeaked. "Sector Seven interested?"

Mikaela shook her head. "They've kept it quiet as quiet as they can, but Optimus is having trouble keeping the soldiers satisfied with his explanations. He doesn't want to explain anything without talking to you first. Do you want to see him?"

Did he? Sam lay back and looked up at the ceiling, mulling the question over. Did he really want to see Optimus right now? Was he really going to get any say in the matter?

"No," he finally decided on. "Tomorrow, or whenever I can get up by my own power. Right now I just want to be alone."

He squeezed her hand in silent reassurance. His girlfriend said something he didn't catch, a rather chaste kiss followed, and her hand slipped from his, leaving him in the silence.

Sam had a lot to think about.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	9. Prime To Prime

Yes this should have been up at least a month ago, I'm sorry. Sadly life happens. Hopefully I should be back on track now.

* * *

**Prime to Prime**

'Tomorrow' turned out to be the following evening. Sam quickly fell asleep after Mikaela left, and drifted in and out of consciousness for the rest of the day. When he was finally lucid (and his head not quite as broken), he began lifting a plastic cup off of the desk, spinning it at a consistent rate and speed – something that took more concentration than his brain normally liked. His head didn't even twinge. He moved on to the heavier option, a large vase filled with fake flowers. Normally he could lift that kind of weight, but not without it shaking furiously if it stayed in one place. Now it was frozen, all but painted in the air.

Just what in the name of Primus had he done to himself?

"Jesus!"

Sam's head snapped up, and the vase fell, stopping a few inches from the ground as his hand jerked out instinctively. Epps was standing in the doorway, eyes impossibly wide.

"What? How?...What?"

The vase was back on the table, and Sam glanced away. Epps was still rambling.

"I mean, Optimus hinted that you'd come back a little...different, but."

"It's not like I've grown another head!" Sam snapped. For a minute Epps looked guilty, but covered it quickly.

"Sorry, kid, but unless you've got plans to spend the rest of your life locked up in a block of ice, I'd stop with the exorcist gig when there's cameras in your room."

Sam winced, looking up in the corners of the room. True enough, the little black boxes were there, blinking innocently.

"Great..."

Epps shrugged. "Well, the 'bots have had this room monitored since you woke up,. Probably erased anything too incriminating."

Sam nodded, and pulled himself out of bed. "Where's Optimus?"

"Outside, on the beach. Been there since Ratchet gave the OK on Mirage."

The teen faltered. With all of the head trauma, he hadn't even thought to ask how the two mechs had been. "And Sideswipe?"

"He's fine. Asking about you about half as often as Bee."

Sam nodded.

"He okay? Everyone else?"

"Walking wounded kid, nothing to get worried about. You were probably the biggest worry."

Sam sighed in relief. "Then guess I need to see Optimus."

He moved to leave, then stopped and looked down.

"Wait, pants first. Then Optimus."

* * *

Though it was apparent by Epps' own reaction that most of NEST were unaware of Sam's new gift, they did own excellent survival instincts and were giving Sam a wide berth. Of the few military personnel he did run into, they tensed, stilling in whatever they had been doing, and had their eyes following him until he was a suitable distance away. But that was better than those clearly here for research. Those watched him like foxes in a henhouse.

He'd never been happier to be out of a building, especially when twelve feet of yellow Autobot all but bounced to his side. His ears flinched when the radio boomed at full volume.

"He lives! He lives!"

Sam sent a mock glare Bumblebee's way for his trouble, but it didn't hold for long, at the scout's sheer delight at seeing him up and about.

"Hey, Bee, guess you came out of everything in one piece?"

Bumblebee nodded, then crouched down, checking the teen for any injuries other than the inevitable bruises. Sam tolerated it for about ten seconds before holding up his hands in protest.

"Stop mother-henning, Bee, you won't find anything." '_On the outside anyway.'_

Bumblebee cocked his head and studied his charge. Something had definitely changed, but he couldn't tell how. He conceded then stood up, slowing his pace to match Sam's while they headed toward the Autobot's headquarters.

Sam couldn't help the groan when he saw yet another soldier spot him from another building and then quickly step back in. It wasn't like he was a live bomb – you'd think a bunch of guys who spent their time around 20 foot living artillery's would be a little more-

"Sam."

Or maybe the soldier's reluctance to come out wasn't to do with him...

The teen turned, staring up at Mirage's unreadable face. The mech's paintjob was in disarray, and, judging from some of the buckled armour, he very much doubted the mech could transform. His shoulder showed signs of recent welding, Ratchet's quick patch up to get him on his feet. Sam's eyes focused on it a little longer than he wanted, to which Mirage responded by stepping closer, forcing him to move back. He could feel Bumblebee tense by his side, just as confused as Sam on how to handle Mirage's appearance.

"Hi, Mirage..." Sam started, not entirely sure where to start. Last time he'd seen the mech, he'd been on the ground at the mercy of a 'con, and the last time they'd spoken, he'd been on the ground verbally. Still, the mech didn't look particularly ready to tear into him, but was instead staring with intense focus.

"I thought you said you couldn't kill Decepticons."

Sam began to reply to reply that he couldn't, only to bite back the words as he remembered Mikaela's description of Bludgeon. Or what was left of him at any rate.

"I...couldn't. That was a first. Never done anything that powerful before."

The gaze narrowed. "How did you do it?"

Sam could only answer with a shrug. "Your guess is as good as mine right now. I was cornered, Sideswipe was out of the running and I had god-knows-how-many tons of alien robot coming at me. Next thing I know I'm waking up in hospital."

His safety blanket of wit was beginning to come back, but Mirage appeared to ignore it. "Do you think you could do it again?"

Sam didn't know how to reply, and Bumblebee stepped to move in between them, but Mirage pulled back, optics flickering like someone caught in a daze.

"Never mind. Optimus is waiting by the beachfront. You shouldn't keep him.

The mech turned and started to walk away, but hesitated for a brief instant. He began to turn his head, but appeared to change his mind. It was such unusual behaviour for the mech Sam almost didn't catch his last words.

"...Thank you."

Sam had a feeling it was the hardest thing Mirage had ever had to say. "You're welcome."

The mech did turn his head now, studying him, as if readying to continue, before nodding and walking in the direction of Ratchet's med bay. Sam watched him for a few moments before heading towards the shore. Bumblebee's head switched between the two in mild awe before heading after Sam.

* * *

Optimus was always an impressive sight. It was not just the size and frame, but the sheer presence the Prime could exude. Having him posed against an ocean sunset was just overkill.

Pulitzer photograph overkill, but still overkill.

He showed no signs of showing he'd detected Sam, but the teen knew the mech had probably been watching him since he'd first woken up. He could be worse than Bumblebee in that regard.

He stopped a few metres from Optimus's pede and stared out, choosing not to speak. As much as this conversation had to happen, he had no interest in starting it.

Apparently, neither did Optimus, who just continued to look out at the setting sun. Bumblebee, who had held back, slowly walked away, leaving the two Primes alone.

It only took a few minutes for Sam to start fidgeting. He wasn't a patient guy by nature, and he'd never been one for silence. A good part of him was ready to chase after his car, but when he moved to leave, Prime spoke up.

"How are you feeling?"

Sam stood still, running over everything that had happened. A thousand perfectly reasonable words crossed his mind, many of which he'd already used. But for this conversation, there was only one suitable.

"Scared."

Optimus nodded. "Of yourself? Or for yourself?"

Leave it to Optimus to cut to the heart of the matter. "I don't know," Sam replied.

"Both?"

The Cybertronian turned his head, pulling his optics away from the vastness to stare at him, and Sam found his mouth wouldn't stay shut.

"I thought I was handling it" he started. "Slow but noticeable learning curve. Couple of bruises and migraines and bent kitchenware as a result, but dealable. But something…snapped yesterday. I was hurt, I was trapped, and I was terrified. Next thing I know I've got another 'con to add to my body count and I've jumped from beginner to a ten degree black belt in Telekinetic Kung Fu."

He jerked his head up to face the other Prime. "Everything they've been teaching me is about control. About responsibility. But I just unleashed pure raw chaos to save my own skin. If I freak out, if I get hurt, that gonna happen again? What if someone else gets in the way? We gonna be cleaning up Bumblebee's head next time?"

Optimus kneeled, keeping his eyes focused on Sam's.

"Your gift was used in extreme circumstances," he began. "An explosion when backed into a corner with no way out. And despite everything, the only one hurt was Bludgeon. Mirage and Sideswipe registered the ricochet, but Ratchet claims neither were hit."

Sam shrugged. "Your point? They were both on the ground and out of the game by then."

"Sam, Mirage reports that Bludgeon flew past him in the blast. Mirage was in the way of your shot, and yet he has no injuries other than those Bludgeon gave him. What does that tell you?"

Sam didn't answer, and so Optimus did it for him.

"Even in a gut reaction, you managed to aim the shot so he wouldn't hit Mirage. That when the force hit walls it wouldn't be occupied buildings. I don't think even Ironhide could make an unplanned shot with that precision."

The teen didn't quite get what Optimus was saying.

"Are you telling me that even though I don't remember it, and I don't remember how I did it, you think I was still in control?"

"Either that, or you are very, very lucky. And judging from your previous exploits I admit that's a possibility."

Sam bit back a grin. "Hey, you go and develop a sense of humour when I wasn't looking?"

Optimus looked away and Sam allowed himself a chuckle before continuing.

"This is gonna change things you know."

Optimus looked back at him. "How so?"

Sam sighed. "We aren't going to keep this quiet. Not for long anyway. Too many people are putting two and two together."

"That was inevitable," Optimus argued. "It's common knowledge that we'd chosen you for our ambassador. This may just be the key to convincing the few who disagree with our choice."

"True," Sam agreed. "But the soul-of-a-Prime thing notwithstanding, I _am_ human, bound by human laws and human governments. And I just proved I can kill several ton killing machines with my _brain_. A lot of people aren't going to believe that that's because I'm getting perpetual gene therapy from a bunch of mechanical yodas."

Optimus tensed. "You think they will move against you?"

"I'm just saying I'm avoiding in lab coats for the foreseeable future. And staying near Bumblebee whenever possible."

The Peterbuilt nodded, although he was still braced. "I admit, that as much as we can protect you against Decepticon forces, there is much about human actions that we are powerless against. It's not something we can do much about."

Sam nodded. "Right, _you_ can't."

Before Optimus could ask about the stressing of the word 'you', Sam moved away, crossing his arms and staring at the sea.

"I'm supposed to be this mediator for human and Cybertronians right?" Sam asked. "But so far all I've done is study, study, study and come to your base. I'm ignoring the most obvious thing. The one thing that I need to prepare for more than anything."

"And that would be?" Optimus asked.

Sam spun round, a confident half smile on his face. "The day when the entire world realises your cover story is bogus."

He started walking back towards the base.

"It's going to happen. Even when I graduate I'm just going to be a college kid that you guys all like. I start talking about sparks and ESP, and I just become that _crazy_ college kid, and I don't have any allies outside of NEST to help, so I'll just get steamrolled half the time. I need support, from the one place the government can't ignore."

"The public's support," Optimus summarised, and Sam nodded.

"We've been lucky so far, but one day someone is going to mess up. Either Starscream won't be fast enough with an EMP blast or someone will defraud a cover story or a new bot will crash in the middle of a New Year's celebration or _something_. All we know is that it's _going to happen_. And pretending it won't is just going to make us go all deer-in-headlights when it does."

The boy had clearly been thinking about this, and Optimus doubted it was as immediate as today. It had probably been brewing for a while.

"So what do you propose?"

At that Sam faltered. "Still working it, but I think Simmons and Leo will have a big role."

"Their websites?"

Sam nodded. "And maybe a few things on our end that you don't want to know about."

"I don't?" Optimus asked with caution, and was graced with a smirk.

"Plausible deniability big guy. Plausible deniability."

_To be continued ..._

* * *

_Thank you all so much for waiting for this chapter. Only 2-3 to go now – so hopefully I'll be back on track soon._

_And Epona Harper gets credit for the 'telekinetic Kung Fu' line, which completely topped my original edit._


	10. Prime Number

Do your eyes deceive you or I have actually updated this?

Many thanks to Epona Harper, who despite me failing 3 times to get it to her in any legible order (and can I just say how much I HATE whatever hotmail has done to its file attachment procedure now?), managed to get this done so quickly after New Years. Enjoy.

Oh, and Transformers (still) doesn't belong to me.

* * *

**Prime Number**

_Four Years Later..._

"Wheelie, stop chatting up the kitchen utensils and help!"

"What? I wasn't doing nuthin!"

Sam glared at the little mech. "That's exactly the problem!"

Thin arms wrapped around his waist, and Sam found himself being pulled back into a smaller frame. "Oh, let him be," Mikaela soothed. "He'd be more trouble if he actually helped out. Trust me on this."

Sam turned in her arms and pulled her into a kiss, experience helping them ignore Wheelie's retching in the background for some time. When they finally pulled away, Sam sighed.

"Are you sure we can't just get a dog?"

Mikaela smiled, knelt down, and lifted up a box by Sam's side.

"You have your pet, I have mine," she joked, dumping the box into Sam's waiting arms. "Now go set an example for the impressionable toy."

Sam gave a mock bow before heading through the door of the new house, bought and paid for on the government's dollar. It was times like this (which were, admittedly few) that being an alien ambassador had its perks.

His university years had been...thorough if nothing else. He'd been a campus legend by the time he graduated, with not one club or class that hadn't at least seen him around. He'd graduated full honors in more subjects than he bothered to count, and far more than the university knew about thanks to online courses under fake names. And the number of beautiful cars rolling into his dorm's street had resulted in a rather virulent rumor that he was an undercover secret agent.

Leo had laughed for a good fifteen minutes when he heard that one.

But now he was free...to be thrust into the gig full time.

Joy.

"Head's up!"

Sam's head jerked up and he yelped, hands leaping out and grabbing the box that had been thrown through the balcony doors. Something in it crashed, and Sam winced.

"Oh yeah!" Mudflap yelled. "Bulls eye!"

"My turn, bro!" Skids called. "Whoa!"

Sam dumped the box and stormed to the balcony, staring into the 'garden' – which, thanks to experience and planning ahead, was more like a car park with tarmac and a miniature hanger at the end. He glared at the twins, and threw a look to Bumblebee who was storming over with equal ire.

"Skids! Flap!" Sam yelled. "There is a balcony RIGHT HERE! Just lift the boxes up carefully and leave them!"

The twins looked at each other, before grinning and picking up a box each, bending back to throw. Bumblebee bolted and grabbed the two, but not before the boxes went flying through the air.

Sam sighed, and the boxes froze, before gliding towards him with easy grace. The Camaro just groaned, and began dragging the twins towards the hanger, muttering Cybertronian curses all the way.

The two boxes landed next to Sam with ease, and, seeing that his 'help' couldn't be trusted or was otherwise occupied, Sam leaned over the railing to eye the rest of the boxes in the drive. They trembled slightly before floating up, following him as he walked back inside.

Mikaela was in the doorway, an eyebrow raised.

"Thought you weren't going to use that for simple stuff?"

The boxes fell to the ground, and Sam raised his hands in mock surrender.

"We're using Skids and Mudflap as moving men. What part of that was ever going to be 'simple?'?"

His girlfriend shrugged. "No worse than the last removal men my Dad used."

The moment was broken by the sounds of "The Doom Song_"_ from Invader Zim. Sam broke away and pulled his phone out of his pockets.

"Hello, Edwards."

"I know it was you!"

Sam smiled and walked back to the balcony, putting the phone on speaker and gesturing for Bumblebee to come closer. From the hanger, he could see the twins peering out to hear.

"Seems to me we've had this conversation before," Sam replied. "What exactly have I done now?"

"You know damn well!" the voice screeched, and Sam raised an eyebrow. He didn't normally manage to bug the man to this extent until at least five minutes into a phone call. "NBE 25. Air show. Texas. Smoke writing that stupid symbol into the air in front of thousands of civilians!"

Bumblebee turned away, scratchy laughter echoing from his voice box.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sam said in false innocence. "I thought Air Raid was with the Delta team in Canada hunting down-"

"You're not getting away with this!" Edwards interrupted. "This isn't a game!"

"I never said it was," Sam answered. "See you tomorrow, Edwards."

"Dammit, Witwicky, if you hang up on-"

Sam ended the call, and quickly turned off the phone.

"_You're a bad, bad, monkey Mojo,"_ Bumblebee offered, and Sam smiled.

"Gotta admit, the air show was a stroke of genius. Knew it was a good idea to try fitting Warp Gate technology on the flyers."

Bumblebee wagged one of his fingers. "_I'll get you, I'll get you all!"_

Sam shrugged. "Come on, Bumblebee, everyone knows I'm behind it, but nobody's actually stopped me. What does that tell you?"

Bumblebee cocked his head, and Sam grinned, before his phone went off again. This time to the sounds of _'_Never Gonna Keep me Down_.'_

"Just a sec, Bee. Gotta talk to my client," he said, flipping open the phone. "Hey, Leo."

"How could you do this to me, man!"

Sam smirked. "Leo, we had a deal. You got the heads up that Mirage was gonna crash the Auto Show, and Simmons got Air Raid's latest event.

"Oh come on, Sam!" Leo snapped. "How is that even remotely fair? Have you seen the Air Show footage? My site is dying in the hits here!"

"Don't be such a drama" Sam warned, and his phone began to beep. "Oh, look who it is – let's put this on conference...Simmons."

"Kid, thank you so much."

"Oh great, just who I needed to hear."

Simmons laughed. "Don't feel too bad rookie – there's no shame in losing to the better man."

"The next stunt is mine, old man!"

"And yet, it really won't surpass my crown jewel."

"Dead, Reggie! And you're dead too, Sam, if you don't get me something juicy!"

Sam pulled the phone away from his ear. "Why don't I leave you two to discuss it?" he replied, and snapped the phone off.

He was really starting to understand why Simmons was such a bastard most of the time. There was a genuine gratification to omnipotent power...

* * *

A few days later, and one house fully settled, Sam and Mikaela were headed for Diego Garcia. They sat together in the hanger, eyes on Bumblebee, stored in his Camaro form for the ride. Mikaela rolled her head onto Sam's shoulder, smiling.

"You really should let Edwards in on your plans, you know."

"Should I?"

Mikaela rolled her eyes and leaned over, shifting in the uncomfortable seat. She gave a half glance over to Bumblebee securely stored just across in the carrier and silently bemoaned the rules that claimed it was unsafe to ride in him during flight.

"It's been four years, Sam. Frankly I'm surprised he hasn't quit yet."

Sam just laughed. "Are you kidding? Look, do you know anyone who has actually quit NEST? They moan, they complain, and sometimes they get fired, but no one ever quits. The five year old boy in them loves it too much.

"Even when cocky post-teen graduates make their lives a bigger hell than the giant robots?" Mikaela teased.

"Especially then."

They sat in companionable silence for some time after that. It wasn't until the pilot commed in their descent for Diego Garcia and Bumblebee revved to life under the netting that Mikaela spoke up again.

"People don't like being kept in the dark, Sam."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Please, Mikaela, you really think Edwards doesn't know what I'm doing? After all these years? He's not that dumb – Simmons goes to his Poker games every month. They could stop me if they really wanted to, but they don't. Because what I'm doing, whether they like it or not, is working.

He stretched and stood, pacing with his arms gesturing wildly.

"Okay...say...say people round out – and I mean hard-cannot-be-denied evidence – that Area 51 existed? Or that the Loch Ness monster was real? Both are ridiculous, impossible ideas, but how much would people really care if they did?

"Why don't you tell me?" Mikaela answered with a smirk, and Sam matched it.

"Not all that much. Why? Because the 'idea' of them existing is already so strong that the actual proof isn't required. So many people believe they exist without proof, that they wouldn't actually see actual evidence as that big of an issue. It downplays the impossibility of it all."

Mikaela stopped and stared at him in disbelief.

"So you've got Autobots doing cameo appearances at air shows, creating fake websites, gate crashing live TV footage and god only knows what else...to make people 'think' they exist?"

Sam grinned. "And when the cat finally comes out of the bag, there's only going to be a handful who didn't already suspect."

Mikaela shook her head in disbelief. "I don't know what's crazier. The fact that you think this will work or the fact that it actually is."

"I know. It's a conundrum."

"So why the constant screaming down the phone?" Mikaela argued.

"So that if it doesn't work, they can all wash their hands and say it wasn't their fault," Sam quipped. "Gotta love politics."

A man in an immaculate, pinstriped suit and hair slicked back with a touch too much gel was waiting for them when they stepped off the plane, moments after Bumblebee have sped down the ramp.

"Witwicky," he stated, keeping out enough ire to keep it non-threatening. Sam pasted on a grin and waved.

"Hi, Edwards. How's things?"

"You don't want to know," the man snapped, and the smirk slid of Sam's face as he noticed just how stressed the man looked.

"Okay, what happened?"

Edwards had gritted his teeth, lips back, before he turned and stormed on his heels back to base, leaving Sam and Mikaela to shrug and follow, Bumblebee cruising behind.

* * *

They entered the main hanger, where the multiple screens were a glow with different angles of the same view. Sam paled as he saw the masses of crowds, the TV cameras and the clearly very busy street, where a giant smoking crater was taking up all attention.

"Crap..."

Edwards threw up his hands. "They're saying it's one of theirs but it didn't pay any attention to our landing procedures."

"Who is it?"

"No frickin' clue. Hasn't poked his head up yet."

"Whoever it is, it can't be good."

Sam whipped his head around to see Optimus and Ratchet entering the hanger. Bumblebee transformed as they entered to salute.

"At ease, Bumblebee," Optimus ordered, and turned his attention back to the screens. "It could be any one of my men – not all of them are patient enough to bide their time and follow procedures."

"Now he tells us!" Edwards snapped.

"He could also be injured," Ratchet snapped. "He may not have had a choice."

"Of course he did, he could have landed ANYWHERE but Manhattan during rush hour!"

Sam's phone chose that moment to begin playing 'Never Gonna Keep Me Down.' Leo didn't even wait for him to reply.

"Dude, tell me you're seeing this!"

"I'm seeing it, Leo."

"This one's reserved for my site right?"

"Leo, this isn't my work."

"...Well sh-"

"Hold on, other call."

He swapped the lines and Leo's excited pitch was replaced with an equally familiar tone.

"Tell me this is your work, kid!"

"Can't, Simmons."

"Don't say that! Say that this was all planned and you have it all under control."

"Didn't, don't. Gotta go – mass hysteria to avoid."

"It might not be that bad," Sam could hear someone saying optimistically as he turned off the phone. "A crashed satellite, a military experiment...so long as whoever it is stays inc-"

Everyone froze as something loomed from the crater on the screen. Something big. And angry. With Teeth.

"Me Grimlock has arrived!"

Sam wasn't sure what was louder. Bumblebee's pained whine or Ratchets screams of retribution.

His phone rang again, and he answered without even bothering to check who it was.

"No, this is not my work. Yes, we are sending someone out to deal with it. No, I have no clue how we're handling this. Yes, you can start freaking out now."

And then hung up.

"Who was that?" Lennox asked, still focused on the screen.

"No clue."

His phone rang again. He didn't even bother to answer it this time. Instead he switched it to silent and tossed it on the table, walking out and gesturing to Bumblebee to follow him. Throughout the base, men were assembling, taking orders and heading out. But Sam headed deeper, to a quieter area of the base, before turning to Bumblebee with a frown.

"This is a little ahead of schedule, but I think we're gonna have to go with the worst-case scenario plan. You in?"

Bumblebee saluted.

"Good. Now let's see if we can't get a ride to Manhattan."

* * *

Nine hours, several thousand miles of airtime, five streets levelled, a front page photo on every newspaper on the planet and one unconscious, battered and bruised robot T-rex later, Ronald Edwards was danger incarnate for anyone who got in his way. Doors crashed open as he glared at the inhabitants.

"Where is he!"

Optimus winced. Edwards had stormed into the room with the rage of Megatron on his worst day.

"Where is he? Where is that snot-nosed, post-pubescent pain in my ass!"

"Sam?" Jolt questioned, and actually jerked back when the man sent the full force of his glare in the volt's direction.

"No, the _other_ snot-nosed, post-pubescent pain in my ass that the lot of you so _wisely_ made your ambassador. Yes! Sam!"

"Thought you'd be more worried about the Godzilla that made camp on Broadway," Will mused, long since used to Edwards rantings. The man simmered, teeth clenching loud enough to hear.

"Oh, the entire world is freaking out over him. I at least want to chew up the guy that can't step on me first!"

They all spun round when the door opening again, and Edwards glared at the soldier that had arrived with enough force to make him consider stepping back.

"What!"

"Uh sir" the soldier began. "You really want to see this..."

* * *

Both the Autobots and the man followed the soldier through to the media centre, where every screen was showing a crowd gathered in an open area. A yellow Camaro was rolling to a stop next to a podium, and Edwards made a strangled noise when Sam stepped out, carrying a suitcase.

"What does he think he's doing?"

"I honestly have no idea," Optimus promised, locked on the images. Sam was walking to a podium, opening the case in his hands, and the crowd began uproar when a small creature jumped out, shook and sat on its edge.

"Wheelie?" Ratchet snapped. "What on Cyberton-"

"Quiet!" Optimus ordered.

Sam was holding up a hand, a silent request for peace. It took a few minutes, but eventually calm descended, though every eye was glued on the small, smirking little robot, moving with too much animation to possibly be a mere machine.

"I know you all have questions," Sam began. "The answers to which the entire world probably should have known a long time ago. But sometimes secrets have to be kept, until we can better accept them. I ask that you listen to my story before you pass judgment.

"I won't pretend I know the exact dates, or just how it all came about, but when human civilisation was just starting, this planet was visited by an alien race known as Cybertronians…

* * *

…And long story cut short, machine no longer works, Decepticons were defeated, and humanity lived to see another day. Sadly, Megatron has pride issues, and the Decepticons aren't leaving. Thankfully, neither are the Autobots, who have been the only thing standing in their way. They have tried to remain as hidden as possible at our world leader's requests, but an event like the one this morning was always going to be inevitable. So now it's time for them to step into the light. Any questions?"

There wasn't a hand left down.

* * *

At Diego Garcia, the shock and disbelief was almost palatable. Journalists as a whole, are not a quiet group. And that Sam had kept them silent throughout his explanation (with the tiny exception of the shrieks when he 'introduced' Bumblebee) was nothing short of incredible even to those watching the news feed. As they watched Sam take and deflect each question with the practiced ease of a pro, sometimes aided by the foul mouth of Wheelie, it was all they could do to watch.

Finally, from the back of the room, a small ripple of laughter came from somewhere, echoing round the room, until every man and mech was laughing and cheering the boy on the screen.

"Atta boy, Sam!" Will shouted. "Here we are chasing our tails and he's off doing more damage control that Simmons did in his whole life!"

Edwards didn't seem to be sharing the sentiment, wringing his hands and shaking his head.

"This is going to backfire. I know it is."

"Oh, calm down, Edwards," Will mocked. "If nobody's fired at him yet, I think we might actually get away with this."

Ratchet, who was paying more attention to the screen than the antics in the room, visibly jerked as Sam explained plans to make the Autobots for more public.

"Optimus, he wants you on Good Morning America."

"That's nothing" Volt added. "I think he just mentioned Skids and Oprah in the same sentence."

"...Primus."

Optimus kept silent, choosing to watch Sam as Bumblebee knelt behind him to better answer a question forwarded to him. Sam's eyes caught the camera just for a moment, and smirked.

There was no question that the victory look had been meant for the other Prime, and despite knowing he wouldn't see it, Optimus couldn't help but smile back.

_To be continued..._

* * *

Two chapters to go and this will finally be complete! Lets see if I can't get some New Years Drive and get this polished off in the next month...


	11. Just Prime

**Just Prime**

They waited until Sam was deep in sleep before Prima eased his way into the man's mind. There was no shifting or transforming, no forcing the sleeper to a world of their choosing. There had been no need for that for many years. And there was no need to trouble their youngest Prime with trivial matters like this.

Instead they slipped into the deeper subconscious, willing sparks of belief through organic transmitters. It was surprisingly simple to upgrade the organic body. All it needed was the right _push_ and-

The world burst into light, and Prima yelped in shock as solid ground formed under his feet.

The simple darkness of the mind was gone, replaced by their own limbo, and he felt the presence of his brothers shifting behind him as he took a good look at his arm - trapped in ceramic jar of some kind with the word 'COOKIE' emblazed on it.

Light footsteps came from nowhere, and a man who barely looked out of his mid-twenties came into view. He was smirking (although his eyes betrayed a deeper anger) and waved one finger at them.

"Finally caught you in the act" Sam said. "I'm fairly certain we talked about what would happen if I caught you doing this. Frequently, and at length."

Prima sighed, and the jar vanished as he stepped forward.

"We have, but we cannot understand your reluctance on this matter. What we are doing is not harmful, and well within your rights to have. It would be a waste to have you offline so soon."

"Yes" Sam agreed. "And as I've said before, it's well within my rights _not_ to stay young and fresh for the next 200 years. Mikaela's already getting jibes about robbing the cradle as is, so you're gonna stop it now, and as a compromise, I won't undo what you did the last god-knows-how-many-times."

"Undo?" Prima asked, disbelief in his voice. "You cannot change your very subconscious. That is beyond anyone's ability."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Haven't we learned by now that telling me what I can and can't do isn't a productive use of our time?"

"We do this for your own good," Prima stressed, and Sam glared right back.

"You've ran over pretty much every opinion I've had in the last 20 years. But I'm putting my foot down. Get. Out."

His aura had made Decepticons step back, his expression cowed every Member of Parliament in the developed world, but it had never quite worked on the Primes. When Prima sighed, his face sculpting into an expression one would wear while explained something to a child, an expression Sam knew well, he snapped.

He snapped his fingers, and the Primes jerked as the ground around them vanished, and their bodies froze. The world returned to the dark subconscious, and from behind them there was a rumbling, a freight train powered by a tornado. In front of them, Sam stood firm, and the darkness began to light up, little sparks flowing around the mind. Pulling, undoing, _rectifying..._

"I'm not just a Prime, _brothers," _Sam said. "I'm human, and that throws your rulebook right out the window."

The tornado train hit them, throwing their minds out and back into their limbo, Sam's eyes sparking with blue the last thing they saw.

'_We're done here.'_

* * *

Considering how out of their depth the human 'volunteers' were at building Cybertronian buildings, Optimus was genuinely elated at how smoothly construction work was coming. The mechs and humans had had a few interesting arguments, but by and large, the two races seemed to be working well together.

Amazing, how many fears could vanish in a mere two decades...

After his triumph with Grimlock's "debut", Sam had not only come into his own, but had done so with a flair that left even those who had believed in him in awe. While world governments ran around trying to collect themselves, and trying to convince everyone involved to keep a low profile, Sam ran interference, while secretly handing Bumblebee a schedule of appearances for mechs to make all over the globe. The government wanted a cover up. Sam didn't.

Not two days after the Autobots had become common knowledge, America had turned on their TV's to find Skids and Mudflap on Oprah. A major newspaper was running a double page spread on Sideswipe, whose publicity photos that had to have been taken months in advance, and a British motoring show had found itself a guest in Blurr. His interview had become the stuff of legends.

When put with the subtle saturation of Sam's 'Easter eggs' of the years before, nobody panicked. Instead, the world seemed to breathe a collective sigh of 'I knew it!' before carrying on with their business.

The world leaders had assumed chaos and possible war would breakout over the mechs' discovery, one that would take years to rebuild afterward. In six months, Sam had them fully integrated into people's minds and then turned his head back to politics.

He was their ambassador – and no matter how much the 180,000 applicants that applied for the job daily might complain, that wasn't changing. While the mechs that weren't on guard against the Decepticons made themselves a regular sight in cities and public events, Sam dove into the quagmire of diplomacy, with goals that only those called Prime knew fully. Now that the world knew about them, he didn't want Cybertronians running around like refugees, completely at the whim of the military – he wanted a city for them, a state, a country. Somewhere they could completely call 'home.'

Needless to say, the United Nations refused…but he'd rather figured they would. So he had a secret "plan B" ready to go. He was determined the Autobots _would_ be able to live independently.

Optimus could only wish that Jazz had been able to see Sam's solution to the problem – the mech would have no doubt laughed himself silly at the notion of Autobots and Decepticons becoming a _toyline_ of all things. And yet, the ridiculously simple things had exploded in popularity, resulting in a franchise that made Sam millions. Millions that he never touched, instead investing it for a future still down the line, and began fighting for the Autobots to become recognized citizens of Earth.

He and Mikaela had broken up and reconciled more times than anyone cared to count in that time. Sam barely remembered to eat and sleep while flying around the world, arguing on vid-conferences before attending meetings, trying to justify the Autobots existence. He made enemies throughout the world, especially among the religious. Optimus had never been more grateful for Sam's telekinesis than the day's extremists tried to get too close. Sam would have been dead 5 times over if it wasn't for that ability - the Primes' words of caution were always ringing in his head every time it happened.

These acts hadn't kept Sam out of the spotlight either. But when Megatron and his troops had attacked the 2024 Olympic Games – trying to make a statement, or just to re-instil fear into the hearts of organics, cameras around the world had seen the man in a well dressed suit and hair that little too curly to tame walk out towards them...and send them shooting back into the sky.

Everyone 'not in the know' had assumed it was some unknown Autobot tech that had been used as a safety measure. But the calm, confident look on his face while taking on the biggest threat to Earth had been enough to get him the same status as a Hollywood movie star. He was smart, rich, attractive enough by human standards, and he had a sense of humour. It was a package that resulted in 2 motion pictures, a good 3 dozen books (only 2 of which the man actually endorsed), a TV show and a thousand childhood dreams.

He'd married Mikaela that year, Optimus remembered. Bumblebee had been the best man, and despite Sam rarely being at home, Mikaela gave birth to a baby boy just before Christmas.

After nearly 20 years of hard work, though, Sam had pulled it off. With the public behind him, and mechs who had been nothing but polite, media darlings (with the exception of one incident involving Wheeljack being banned from setting foot in Korea which was best left unmentioned), the Autobots were officially recognised as citizens of Earth. All they needed now was a permanent place to stay.

Two months later, and their funds considerably depleted, Optimus had found himself standing in an expanse in South America with the right to build.

The Atacama Desert. Over 40,000 square miles desolate land with almost no population, human or animal and one road running through it. For humans it was most inhospitable. For mechs, it was the perfect place to rebuild to scale. In less than a year, the city would be habitable, and, for the first time in thousands of years, Cybertronians would finally have a _home._

The sound of an elegantly tuned engine turned his head, and he watched the latest Bugatti model drive up the tarmac and into the construction site. Very few cars could handle a few metres in the sandy dust without gaining essentially an extra paint job, and Optimus sorely wished he knew how Mirage and Sideswipe did it.

The Bugatti rolled to a dignified stop, and Optimus half stepped back as the door opened, allowing Sam to step out. He said something to Mirage that Optimus didn't quite catch, and waved goodbye as the spy rolled into the compound.

"Where's Bumblebee?" Optimus asked, noting the lack of yellow tagalong, to which Sam grinned.

"Last I checked, he was making peek-a-boo faces at Daniel," he replied. "I swear he's worse than my mother sometimes. Mirage was doing one of his 'History of Cybertron' lectures in town and offered me a lift.

Optimus smiled, kneeling down to get a better view. Soon he wouldn't have to – the city was being built with 'human' walkways along buildings to that conversations would no longer feel so awkward, but after so many years it had become custom for the two of them. He frowned when he took in the new details – It had been a few weeks since he'd last seen his human brother, but he appeared to have aged far more in the last few days than he had in years. Faint traces of wrinkles he had seen on NEST soldiers were beginning to crop up.

"Are you alright Sam?" he asked, slightly worried the man was overworking himself. "You did call rather unexpectedly."

Sam shrugged and grinned. "Yes and no. Let's just say something happened that was a long time coming. And I have something that belongs to you."

From his bag, he pulled out the Matrix.

"They've done all they can for me now," Sam said. "Time you got your inheritance."

"Sam," Optimus began, only to be cut off.

"Ah ah, knowledge? I've got. Power? I've definitely got. A strong working relationship with both my species? Working on it. Anything else they've tried to offer is optional and going straight in the 'not a chance in hell' pile. But, since they don't believe I have the 'maturity' to make that decision, I'm being a stubborn little brat and just saying no."

He smirked, and tossed the priceless artefact in the air, Optimus catching it instinctively.

"Besides, after 20 years, I figure it's time for you to have some headaches."

"Are you sure?" Optimus asked, rather hesitant, to which Sam just continued to smile.

"Look at it this way, Optimus. I've mastered keeping them out of my head now. They're not getting back in. Whether they want to admit it or not, I've won this fight. There is nothing else they can give, that I want to have. Nothing I _need_ to have anyway. And if they get too annoying for you, I'll show you some tricks to put them in their place."

He threw a half wave at the Prime and headed over to the growing city. "So gonna give me the tour? Come on a long way since I was last here. Finally get those last little bugs sorted out?"

Optimus smiled, and tucked the Matrix away as he followed.

"Why don't I show you?"

To be continued...

* * *

One chapter to go!


	12. In the Prime of your Life

Well, it took about a year longer than I planned, but this little car crash of a fic is finally over. Thanks to everyone who has stayed with me till the end, and those who send me messages to prod me back into writing. Lord knows if you hadn't I'd still be mulling about chapter 4 or something. Hope you enjoy the conclusion to _Prime._

Transformers is clearly not mine.

* * *

**In The Prime of Your Life**

They had tried several times to get Sam to change to a hospital closer, or even in New Iacon, but without avail. His family lived within commuting distance of this city, and so this was where he was staying.

Near the edge of the car park, Optimus spotted Bumblebee, still bright yellow although the car had changed design over the last several years. Some less aware of the mech's personality might have assumed he was standing guard, but from the position and the fact that Optimus could detect no hologram, Optimus knew otherwise.

Bumblebee was sulking.

He rolled into the spaces beside his scout and activated his hologram, walking alongside the car.

"You still refuse to go see him?"

Bumblebee didn't answer, and Optimus sighed, heading for the hospital.

* * *

Over the years, New Iacon had blossomed. Although acknowledged as a separate 'country', it brought Bolivia and the rest of South America thousands of tourists a year – all wanting to see the robot city - a place that was ridiculously large alien to everything they'd ever known. The first ten years to settling had been dangerous and apprehensive, but they'd survived.

When they'd stabilised, Sam had been working very closely with the American government at the time (and they had been somewhat apprehensive of the Autobots possibly gaining stronger allegiance to someone other than themselves, despite the fact that they had point blank refused to offer any non-military land), and the general feel of the public had suggested that he should run for presidency. Optimus had been one of the strongest voices for this plan, but had been vetoed by Sam, who at 50, wasn't looking to handle any more hurdles than he had to, staying in New Iacon with his family as a permanent ambassador.

At 60, he became a grandfather for the fifth time, and moved back to America when Mikaela's father suffered a stroke. Bumblebee went with him, and neither ever returned for more than a visit.

That was around the time Ratchet had begun work.

It had started out harmlessly enough, a sketchy blueprint, some schematics locked in a file at the back of his head. He'd shared them with Wheeljack, who had provided his own opinions, and then with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, when they spotted handsome etchings in their hands. Who went on to tell others.

Sam had been 75, and sitting by Mikaela's bedside as her health failed before their plans left paper and entered reality. But by that time, there wasn't a single mech in New Iacon that wasn't in on it. Optimus donated the first piece – cybertronian alloy marked with Sam's own 'Prime' mark.

How they had kept it secret for as long as they had was still a mystery to the Prime. They had worked and toiled on this for decades, even while Sam was visiting regularly. Bumblebee had been in on it early, and, as good as the scout was at staying quiet, Sam could read the mech like a book even on a bad day.

Sam had been 98 when they finally invited him back to see the fruits of their labour. The Primes had failed in giving him longevity through his own biology, but Sam had never been anything but hardy. He'd been in a wheelchair at that point, though refusing to let anyone push him around. But when Optimus and Ratchet had invited him to the med bay, he'd stood, cane clenched in one hand, staring at the mech body in front of him.

There wasn't a mech in New Iacon that wasn't happy with the achievement. Decades of hard work, with every mech agonising over every last chip and screw. A committee had spent 2 years just trying to figure out the exact shade of blue the optics should be tinted. But that moment had made it all worth it, when Optimus watched Sam place a wrinkled, knarled and old hand on the protoform's foot, staring up at the new shell his people had made for him.

Words hadn't been necessary that day. Sam had taken one look at the frame standing proudly in Ratchet's medical bay, and understood completely. He'd walked over at his own pace, the only sound being his cane tapping the ground with each step. When he'd stopped, one wrinkled hand on the metal frame, the man had sighed, eyes closed as the possibilities shot through him.

"We've gone through every simulation without fail," Ratchet said, interrupting the silence with an almost nervous glee. "According to the Primes, you'll be up and functioning within a matter of hours. Just let us know when to start."

Bumblebee was hanging by the doorway, shifting on his feet in anticipation. Optimus had been more composed, though internally his excitement was the same.

Sam's hand dropped from the protoform and he turned to the three, optics never leaving him. "You've been planning this for a while haven't you? I suspected as much, but I was never ready to ask."

"Decades," Optimus admitted. "No, perhaps as long as we've known you, but this form began in Ratchet's hands, and infected every mech in Iacon."

Ratchet snorted. "And the amount of flailing over silly superficial details that went on...I'm almost surprised it got completed at all."

Sam turned round to stare at the frame once more. "It's beautiful."

All three stood a little straighter at the compliment.

"But I can't accept it."

The three froze.

* * *

"Optimus?"

The hologram pulled himself from his memories, staring at the girl in front of him. Her hair was unnaturally pink, and dressed in a haphazard manner the Internet insisted was the style of the moment, but looking altogether uncomfortable in them. Optimus smiled in recognition.

"Hello, Claire. How is he?"

Claire Walters gave a little half shrug, reminding Optimus so much of her great grandmother. Rachel had had intense eyes, just enough of Mikaela's sharp manner and Sam's wide optimism to make them enchanting.

"He'd be better if BB would come see him. Holding on for him. And you."

"And you," Optimus insisted, and Claire bit her lip and looked away.

"Not really. Doesn't really see me or anyone these days. Knows he shouldn't be here, shouldn't know us. Just waiting for everyone else to figure that."

* * *

When Optimus came into view, old wizened eyes smiled in recognition, and Optimus paused at the doorway, unsure if he was happy or sad to see the man bedridden in such a way. He forced himself forward, sitting the hologram in the chair recently occupied by the man's youngest descendant, unable to stop thinking of his brother's last visit to Iacon.

It had almost been funny. In all of the meetings, looking at all the prototypes, after all of the possible dangers, it had never even occurred to them. Never even crossed their minds.

The idea that Sam might say _no..._

_

* * *

_

The keening whine from Bumblebee's voicebox could have easily filled the room had Ratchet not immediately interrupted, choosing to feign ignorance on what Sam really meant.

"Is it not to your liking? Height? Colour? You wanted wings? I can fix any issues you have within a few..."

He trailed off as Sam shook his head. "You didn't misunderstand me, Ratch; I know why you did this, why you wanted to do this..."

The man trailed off as he locked eyes with Prime's optics. "But I'm a human Prime, and whether you realise it or not, I can't be the _mech_ you want me to be. I just _can't."_

"Sam," Bumblebee whined, anger strongly mixed with pain, but Sam held up his hand, a silent command to calm down.

"This isn't about confidence, or fear, or any other hang-ups going through your head, Bee," he explained. "It's about doing what's right for the future of Autobots _and_ the humans of earth."

Bumblebee stared at the man for a long moment, before turning back and storming out.

"Bee..." Sam started, readying to follow but stopping at the last second. He sighed, glancing at the two remaining in the room. Ratchet was looking at anything but him and the frame in the corner, hands clenched into fists, while Optimus...

He turned away, and walked out the door, parting words whispered just loud enough for the mech to hear.

"I'm sorry, brother."

* * *

"I heard the news."

Sam's smile never left his face. "Well, we all knew it was only a matter of time right? Humans don't live forever."

'But you don't have to be human,' hissed a little voice in Optimus's mind. 'You don't have to do this.' Thoughts Optimus would never let anyone know he had. The hologram sat down, taking in Sam's image, well aware it could be the last time.

"You still haven't figured out why I'm doing this have you?" Sam asked, humour still in his voice, deepened with age.

"I have...suspicions," Optimus admitted. "Our brothers are angry with the choice, but they seem to understand."

Sam nodded. "Bumblebee figured it out a while ago. Didn't make him any happier. Don't think the Primes ever really understood what being a human prime entailed either."

The man winced, fighting an invisible enemy, and Optimus felt his spark clench.

"Optimus," Sam began. "Everything I've done, everything I've worked for...it happened because I was human. Because I _wasn't_ Cybertronian. People...they're afraid of anything new – I made it easy for them to trust you because I was _one of them._ I come back as a mech...Everything will shatter._"_

"We don't have to say it's you..." Optimus pleaded, and Sam laughed.

"Optimus, every government and fanboy has their eyes on the sky now. A bird flies too high and it's over the net in a matter of minutes. How would you explain another mech, another _Prime_ just showing up?"

"But you're _ours,_" Optimus insisted, flinching at just how childish it made him sound.

"I'm the human you respected, and treated as one of your own," Sam corrected. "At least, that's how it is for other humans. And that's how it SHOULD be. With me, Autobots can see humans as equals and vice versa. You start turning humans into mechs, and everything falls apart. And don't say it would just be me, Optimus. You've been in politics too long not to know there's no such thing as 'just one time'."

The hologram grit his teeth, eyes glancing to stare at the wall.

"You understand, right, Optimus?"

No. He didn't understand. And a part of him, a part that he kept locked in the deepest darkest part of his processor wanted to yell at Sam. Yell and scream and _make _him understand what he was doing to them. Or better yet, transform – rip open the wall and yank the man from his bed, drive to New Iacon and force Ratchet to perform the transfer. Even if Sam hated him for 100 years, even if he hated him for 100 _thousand _years, even if it ruined everything they had worked for on earth, it would be better than letting the man...the _boy_ carry out his last decision as a Prime.

But he didn't. Because he'd promised. Promised to stand by Sam no matter what.

And as much as he hated to admit it, just because he didn't understand didn't mean he didn't comprehend. At the end of the day, Sam was right. He could only pray that his brother was cybertronian enough that Optimus would one day see him again in the matrix.

He couldn't stay much longer – Sam was clearly tired, and fighting to stay awake. The hologram said his goodbyes, promised to visit again soon, and headed back out, nodding to Claire as he passed.

* * *

Bumblebee stayed silent as he passed, and the Peterbuilt collapsed on his tires as the hologram faded from existence. He stayed in his spot for a few minutes, before sending the scout a message.

'_Don't let your last memories be angry ones, Bumblebee. You have a chance to say goodbye. Take it.'_

He didn't wait for the Camaro to answer, instead he drove off, mulling over his visit.

He wondered if Sam really understood what he was giving up. How much the Autobots had been waiting for the day he decided would never come. The day when Bumblebee could hug him and not hold back in fear he broke bones, the day Mirage could salute to a mech whose form finally matched his spark, the day Ratchet would be allowed to throw a wrench when he got hurt to show his relief without fear of killing him...

The day Optimus could stand optic to optic with the last family he had, to usher in their people's future...

In the hospital car park, a boy dressed in yellow hesitated at the door of the building, before collecting himself and striding in.

* * *

'_And in other news, New Iacon held a memorial service today for Sir Samuel Witwicky, the former ambassador for the Autobot City. Sir Witwicky died last Thursday of cardiac arrest in Oakfells Hospital. _

_His involvement with the cybertronian force began in 2007 when an Autobot Scout arrived to locate...'_

**END**


End file.
